


I'll follow you to the end of the world (and help you save it)

by swordsandpen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, It's almost the end of the world in the future, Jaime and Brienne have a cute family in the future, angst BUT fluff also :P, future kids go back in time, maybe one day I'll wait something normal and not sci-fi, timetraveling AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:47:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21775954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordsandpen/pseuds/swordsandpen
Summary: The Jaime goes North timetraveling AU no one asked for.Jaime travels to Winterfell but almost gets burried in snow. A young girl, blond and tall with sapphire blue eyes, saves him, but once they reach the castle, he realizes something about her is off.That is before the girl claims to be a Lannister from the future.
Relationships: (IMPLIED), Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark
Comments: 60
Kudos: 156





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to wait until I finished before I started posting, but I'm very, very close to the end and I was getting so anxious about my work that I could not help it. This thing was supposed to be an OS but it has now 40 word pages. Oups?
> 
> I simply love, love, this kind of classic children from the future travel back in time at a time their parents were not together yet prompt. I almost wrote it for two older fandoms, but this is the first time I almost finish it or even post it. It was exciting to write, hope you feel that way too.
> 
> All mistakes are mine. I'm trying my best but English isn't my first language and I'm too shy to get a beta.

Winter is swallowing him whole already, and Jaime is not even remotely close to Winterfell. The night is falling but the cold winter winds are rising. His thin cloak and the piece of clothes he covered his head with are barely protecting him from the snow flying in the air in every direction. His soldier’s boots are not high enough (or, if you ask him, it’s this damn snow that is too much) to keep the cold snow from entering his boots.

Why did he decide to go North and fight the army of the dead again?

Because she reminded him about honor and doing what is right. _Because she told him to._

_Fuck loyalty._

Well, after days of traveling in the cold, he would actually answer

_Fuck the snow and fuck the North._

Once again, Jaime steps deeply in the snow – up to his hips, almost. He stops. He wants to let his body fall in the snow, unable to move forward anymore. Maybe he would die. Maybe not. Who would care anymore?

_Brienne, he tells himself. Brienne would care._

That’s when he sees the girl. She is wrapped up in tons of clothes and cloak, so at first, he can’t really tell her gender. When she speaks, however, there is no doubt.

“Do you need – help?” she asks.

“Nah, don’t you think it’s a good place to sleep?”

Jaime can’t see her face, but he notices she freezes when he speaks. Oh great, he really needed someone to recognize him as the Kingslayer when he was trying to be on the road anonymously.

To his surprise, her hesitation only lasted a second.

“Do you want me to help you or would you rather borrow one of my cloaks to sleep in here and start a fire for you?”

Jaime groans but reaches to her with his left hand. She helps him pulling out of the snow. After briefly explaining to him that she is to join her family at Winterfell and that her name is Jo’, he allows her to walk with him for the rest of the trip. However, he can’t help but notice she can’t quite meet his eyes for more than a second.

She is hiding something from him.

***

When they arrive at Winterfell, they are both thrown in cells. Jaime feels sad for the girl – they accuse her of being complicit to his crime when he had just met her. It doesn’t last long. At the end of the first day back at Winterfell, Jaime finds out they freed the girl after sorting everything out.

 _Good, he thinks_. At least one of them won’t have to suffer much from the cells. Jaime will never admit it out loud, but he ended up quite liking the girl – Jo’.

The girl with the bright blue eyes and wit on her tongue.

Finally, finally, the dragon queen sends for him.

***

His trial is a joke. The dragon queen has already decided him guilty. Jon loves her too much to contradict her. Sansa hated him even before Jaime showed up at Winterfell.

In other words, he’s fucked.

The only person in the room that seems to be still believing in him is Brienne. Good and honorable Brienne, vouching for him in public, in front of the girl the promised to protect and enemies of his house.

She talks about him with words that make him proud. Words that make him in awe of the person she is.

Words are not enough to extinguish the flame of the dragon’s queen anger.

The dragon queen has the courtesy of pretending to think before giving her final judgment. Jaime knows she is about to announce his execution. She is too predictable. Targaryens were generally not known as particularly forgiving or patient people.

Finally –

“Jaime Lannister, Kingslayer and murderer of my Father, Aerys Targaryen, I condemn you to death by dragonfire.”

The room stops breathing. Some gaps. Some whispers. And one –

“NO!” the girl with the bright blue eyes exclaims in the audience. He frowns. Jaime is aware he is an especially handsome and charming person, but he couldn’t understand why a girl he had just met would care that much about him living or dying. Did he leave that much of an impression on her?

“You cannot do this, not now,” she continues, walking quickly to the front of the room, “Your Grace,” she adds, with precipitation.

“Who are you to contradict the judgment of a Queen?” Danearys asks, her eyes aflame with fury.

Silence falls. The girl seems to be carefully choosing her words as if she had only now realized what she had done on the spur of the moment. _Wise girl, and brave,_ Jaime thinks. He is uncertain she knows about the dragons, though the rumor of their presence must have reached even the further corners of Westeros.

“It is not my goal to publicly contradict your words, Your Grace. Unfortunately, I don’t own a cloak that can resist dragon fire yet,” she starts, her head high and her eyes meeting the dragon queen’s with confidence.

Jaime stares at her, interested in what she would say to defend him and why she would do so. Her sense of humor could be the end of her, but Jaime has to admit he quite likes it.

“Yet, you are here, standing in front of my council and the Northerners, insisting I am wrong at ordering the Kingslayer’s execution.”

“My d-,” she stops herself before she can finish her sentence. “ _Ser Jaime Lannister_ ,” she says instead, insisting on his title, “is NOT the man you think he is”. Her eyes are aflame with determination as dragon fire.

“Yes,” Danearys answers slowly, but firmly. She hits the wooden table with her fingers. Her patience is wearing thin now. She can’t wait the moment she would be able to execute Jaime, it seems. “Lady Brienne has made the same point just now. However, it doesn’t excuse the crimes he is been accused of. Nothing you could say would change my mind.”

Jaime’s eyes dart to Brienne for a second. She had taken her place back in the audience, but the frown she wears doesn’t leave any room for doubt. She is as confused as he is about this interruption. There is something else though, something like –

Hope.

“I’m from the future,” she blurts out with force.

_What?_

That is not what Jaime expected. _Oh, this is going to be fun to watch unravel._

The dragon queen’s face is as blank as she was two minutes ago, at the exception of anger directed toward Jaime. Jon Snow glimpses at his dragon queen, his eyes suddenly rounded but still seeking her advice to know how to react. Sansa Stark’s face is pale and cold as porcelain, a true Lady of the North. Tyrion looks amused. He wears a half-smile on his face, one eyebrow raised.

“Excuse me?” Danearys finally says, almost insulted.

“Your Grace,” she repeats, “I’m from the future, about twenty years from now.”

“What does it have to do with the Kingslayer’s crimes?”

“I have information about the events you will soon have to overcome, Your Grace. Some of these events will involve _Ser Jaime Lannister_ acting like a true knight. It would be in everyone’s best interest to hear me out.”

The frown of the dragon queen deepens, and she taps her fingers on the wooden table with impatience. However, before she can open her mouth again, Jon Snow speaks instead.

“Do you mean to say you know about the battle against the Night King?”

Oh, he wonders what lies she will come up with to explain what exactly she knows. He supposes she may have quite the imagination.

“Yes, Your Grace. I’ve been told tales about the war against the dead though I was only born a couple of years after. I know you are planning on burning the dead riding your dragons and having the Dothrakis charge the Army of the dead first. Your Grace, you are also planning on killing the Night King yourself, but he is smart. He will avoid fighting one on one, using his disposable wights instead. You will come very close to losing.” The girl finishes, finally, letting out the nervous breath she has been holding up to now, though it doesn’t break her mask of confidence.

It does seem like a plan the dragon queen and the Stark bastard would come up with. Could a teenage girl come up with this kind of strategy without any military training? Jaime is not certain. It certainly sounds like a plan someone told her about.

“Your tale is broad enough anyone could have come up with it. You still gave us no reason to believe you and explain why the Kingslayer deserves to die,” Danearys answers even if the girl’s eyes were on Snow.

“You are planning on giving dragonglass to every fighter and on using Valyrian swords, correct?”

The dragon queen gives her a firm nod.

“Valyrian swords are magical swords, Your Grace, especially twins Valyrian swords. I would like to point out that _Ser Jaime Lannister_ is a seasoned soldier and that he has a Valyrian sword. My understanding is that your army is not exactly overflown with experience soldiers. It would be madness to execute one for personal reasons.”

For an instant, Jaime is certain the dragon queen is about to spit fire toward the girl to burn her to the bones. He truly admires how the girl is able to stand up to the dragon queen despite the danger. The points she makes are relevant and true giving the situation, but he hopes she doesn’t end up dead because she spoke. Jaime observes intently, interested by how that situation will turn out.

Before the Dragon Queen speaks, however, Bran Stark finally opens his mouth from the creepy corner he has been sitting in around the wooden table.

“Everything she says is true,” Bran Starks begins with his monotonous voice. “She is Joanna Lannister. She is born a few years from now, after the war. I saw her in one of the possible futures I observed, one of the darkest. She can be trusted.”

_The girl is a Lannister kid from the future? What the fuck?_

Well, he should probably have guessed as soon as he saw what she looks like with her long golden hair and her traits in her face. Her sapphire blue eyes and pale freckles on her face were telling another story, however.

His eyes rest on Tyrion’s. His raised eyebrows and the amusement flashing in his eyes show his amusement. Jaime could not tell if he is mocking her story or if he found the whole situation hilarious.

The girl turns her eyes to the source of the voice with a frown. Then, she notices who spoke and stares for a few seconds before she pales, her eyes round.

“You are Bran Stark, Yo – My Lord,” she whispers loud enough for Jaime to hear.

“I am.”

“ I – Well, one of the darkest future is quite the euphemism, if you consider humanity was on the cusp of disappearing and that our parents had to send us back in the past to protect us. My Lord. My Lady.”

The whispers from the audience that started when Bran Stark first talked go louder and louder. From where Jaime still stands, in front of the wooden table but some steps behind the girl – the _Lannister girl_ , he could hear them as loud as she was talking.

 _“Why should we trust her? She’s a Lannister!” “She is lying through her teeth […]” “She could be the child of the Kingslayer, for all we know […]” “We should execute her by the Kingslayer side!” “What if she says true and we’re all meant to die?”_ The girl freezes and turns around so she half faces the audience, her mouth slightly opened in hesitation and eyes confused as if she didn’t quite know how to answer such hate.

The girl is an odd thing, looking so unused of the hate that comes with the Lannister name, Jaime thinks. Tyrion and he were exposed to the Lannister reputation at a young age, growing up with the arrogance that comes with the name.

“I believe my brother,” Sansa Starks exclaims, louder than the whispers of her people. “If he says what Joanna claims is the truth, this is because it is. I also believe we can trust her.” She adds with confidence. Her eyes boil with answered questions, however, despite her mask of confidence. “As Lady Brienne also bravely pointed out, Ser Jaime played a big role in bringing Arya and I home.” Her eyes turn to the Dragon Queen as she was the one deciding his fate. “I believe we should spare Ser Jaime for now. We can’t afford to lose any soldier before the war even starts.”

The Dragon Queen doesn’t even spare a look at Sansa Stark. She keeps her eyes locked on the girl, studying her options, threatening her. Jaime could see her political wheels turning in her eyes. She hates the fact that Sansa Stark contradicted her decision. After all, she considers being the one true Queen. She also wants to keep the North at her back, not against her, as she needs their army. She could not exactly order her dragon to burn them all alive, which would most totally facilitate her decision.

“I agree,” she says, finally. “I will spare the Kingslayer for now, but he will be watched closely.”

The girl’s shoulders fall in relief, and Jaime turns to Brienne to share a smile that she returns brightly. When he darts back to the girl, however, she is already gone.

***

_That was a close one. Couldn’t she think before acting, for once?_

Joanna Lannister follows the dragon queen, the Starks and her uncle outside the room. They want to talk but didn’t say about what. She supposes they mean to say things they can’t say publicly.

She is walking in front of her uncle but feels his eyes on her. She tries to keep her confidence mask despite her growing anxiety and the danger. This thing could still go wrong in 1001 other ways. The Queen still has her dragons, after all, and she didn’t seem to hold her family deep in her heart back then.

They arrive in another room, and Sansa Stark is the first one to talk

“You said _your parents sent us in the past to protect us because humanity was on the cusp of disappearing_. What does it mean exactly?”

“I don’t know how many of us made it, my Lady. All the children of the survivors were sent. A lot of them are children of people that were in the room we were a few minutes ago. Your children. We were supposed to land close to Kingslanding, but obviously, it didn’t go as planned.”

“Are we still alive in the future you come from?” her uncle asks.

She really should avoid referring to him as her uncle in her head. This seems like a good way to talk too fast and call him that out loud. She glances to him for an instant only, before turning her eyes back to Lady Sansa.

Her uncle is one of the few people that knows her father so well. No doubt he would be one of the first to figure out who was her parents when it is too early yet. Her father was almost executed for being a Lannister just now. She could not risk putting his life, hers and her brothers live in risk, not now, when she is standing in front of the Dragon Queen.

How much is she allowed to tell them exactly? It was not clear.

“I – I’m not certain,” she starts. If she were honest with herself, she would admit avoiding thinking too hard about whether or not her family is still alive in her present, the future. Longing and sadness spread in her, but she tries to push their faces away from her thoughts before the tears come. She pushes a strand of blonde hair behind her hair to give herself a few seconds, then raises her head higher in confidence. “They were alive when I left but time has passed. There is no way to know, now.”

_You have to go, my fierce little warrior. You can’t stay with us. The others won’t last long without your protection._

_She begged and begged and begged, telling them how she could fight, how she could beat a lot of guys of her age in the dust, but nothing could change their mind. They were doing this to protect her._

A cold wind blows through the only window of the room, but no one moves to close it, stunned by the news. Voices from outside resonated in the room. People laughing, talking, training for the next battle. Someone walks in the corridor right behind the closed door. Their steps echo against the stones, loud and clear, before being reduced to silence again as they walk away.

“That means we lose the battle and the Night King wins if we do nothing to change it,” Jon Snow sighs, finally.

She shakes her head. “According to the tales, you win the first battle. One of your sisters kills the Night King. You think this is all over, for years – about 20 years, to be precise. Then, when we less expect it, he reappears again, stronger than ever, and nearly crushes us all,” she ends. This story feels like it happened one hundred years before when it also has not happened yet. “As I said before, they sent us here to protect us, but they also hoped we would be able to change the course of things. I swore I would protect the other kids and at least try to change our future, Your Grace, my Lady and my Lords.”

“No,” answers the Queen. “I don’t trust you yet to let you leave the castle alone. You will stay until we decide what to do with you.”

Jo’ barely contains a sigh. The Dragon Queen is turning into a bigger obstacle that Jo’ thought she would.

“Oh, I see.” She crosses her arms. “Please, take your time to figure out if you trust me. It’s not like one of the lives I need to protect is your son’s.”

The Queen raises her spectacularly flexible eyebrows. “It’s impossible. I have been told years ago that I can’t have children.”

“It looks like that person was wrong about this, Your Grace,” Jo’ shrugs.

Her uncle raises his hands. “Let’s not quarrel about such details, Your Grace. We will find a solution together.” He throws a warning look to Jo’ as well but seems to be lost in thought, taking a few more seconds than necessary to examine her.

He knows about her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joanna comes to a new realization and tries to get help to change the future. Tyrion proves he's the smartest in the Lannister family when he wants to and Jaime, that he is an oblivious, charming and sassy knight. Brienne gets to know Joanna a bit better.

After a few other exchanges, barely quieter than the first one, all the important persons in the room leave one by one. Queen Danearys follows, frowning, her angry steps resonating on the stone walls of the room. She doesn’t even bother throwing a look at the direction of her Hand. Soon, Joanna is left alone with her uncle. 

Tyrion Lannister doesn’t waste a single moment before addressing the problem that is right in front of them.

“You’re Jaime’s, isn’t it? I noticed how he looked at this Lady Brienne at the Dragonpit meeting,” he says.

Her uncle is standing beside the fireplace, warming up his hands. The light of the flames dance and flicker on his face, warm and reassuring. It is almost as if Joanna is back home again, at the library in the Evenfall castle while her uncle patiently tries to teach her how to read big books like him near the cozy fireplace. She remembers how he used to read her stories about Casterly Rocks and the dragons from the legends. Tyrion stares in the flames in silence for some time, before finally meeting her eyes.

Joanna doesn’t avoid his inquisitive look. She thought he would ask this kind of question because of the way he observed her earlier.

She doesn’t reply. It’s useless. They both knew the other knew minutes before Tyrion could ask her. Still, she nods.

***

They don’t allow her to leave the castle in search of the other kids yet – or, more accurately, Queen Danearys doesn’t trust her enough to let her leave.

She can’t stop thinking about her brothers and picturing them alone, laying in the snow and the cold, in some unfamiliar place. What if some soldiers or brute find them before she does? Will the twins remember their knife lessons?

She avoids the Winterfell stables because the horses and ponies remind her of them and how she used to teach them how to ride with her mother by their side. The boys were some years younger, and they would laugh and laugh on the back of their ponies, pretending to be knights like their mother.

***

Her father from here, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to want to avoid her, quite the opposite. She supposes his huge capacity to annoy people didn’t come with age and that her mother wasn’t exaggerating her stories from their first meeting in the Riverlands.

“You are avoiding me,” Jaime tells her one day as she helps Lady Sansa making sure they have enough food for the winter.

 _You don’t say!_ She rolls her eyes but teases him anyway. “You are smart. It only took you a couple of days to figure it out.”

“You are not making any sense, little,” Jaime answers, skeptical. You practically saved my life at the risk of yours during this damn trial but, then, you spend days avoiding me?”

Jo’ freezes, her arms filled with provisions, but she doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I didn’t want to have your death on my conscience.”

He crosses his arms, suddenly suspicious. “Your family isn’t at Winterfell.”

“What?” She has no idea what his point is.

“When we first met, you told me you were joining your family at Winterfell. It was obviously not true unless the big red-headed wildling or the old Hand of Ned Stark’s bastard are secretly married to Lannisters.” Jaime smirks, proud of his original mocking. Joanna rolls her eyes.

Oh. _That point_. Well, her family kind of was at Winterfell, but she could not exactly tell him she was his and Brienne’s daughter. Not now. He would turn overprotective and would not let her try to change the future. Plus, her parents are not together yet. What if she does something that change their lives so much she simply stops existing?

Joanna turns her back to him and starts resuming her work. “I could not exactly tell you _oh, I need to go to Winterfell because I’m from the future_ , can’t I?”

She glances at him in time to see a glint of amusement in his eyes. Then, suddenly, his face grows serious again. He opens his mouth, intending to continue the discussion but not a sound comes out for a few seconds. Then, hesitant, he finally asks: “Are you Cersei’s daughter?”

“What?”

“I recently found out Cersei, my sister, was pregnant.“ He pauses a second, examines her face for any hint of judgment toward him. Jo’ knows the words that will come next before he says them. “She is pregnant with _my_ child. Bran Stark said you were a Lannister, so – “ A shadow of sadness and regret lurk in his blue eyes.

_Oh, Dad._

What should she tell him about Cersei when he still seems to be so heartbroken over the situation? Should she mention that, according to the tales she heard from other people, Cersei’s baby never existed? The thought only felt to her like a punch in the gut. He deserved so much more than a fake child he would never be able to call his own.

Her family has always kept her and her siblings away from the rumors and tales about her Aunt Cersei. She heard her father and her uncle mention her a few times and, when she was old enough, she had asked them about that aunt she had never known. Her father had told her stories about their childhood at Casterly Rock, how they had played at jumping off the cliff in the ocean and how beautiful and ambitious his sister was.

As Joanna got older, she realized her father had told her a very censored version of the tale. To know the rest of it, she had connected the dots from rumors and other mysterious discussions she was not supposed to hear. Today, she knows some more about how manipulative and cruel her aunt was, how bad she was for her father.

“No, of course not.” For a moment, she thinks she talked too fast and he’s insulted by her disdain. However, his shoulders fall in relief and the glint of amusement reappears.

As if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Good,” he answers. “To be fair, I was not certain of what to do with another kid with Cersei as a mother. She is a hateful woman. I am not.”

***

Her mother – or the younger version of her mother, turns out to be much easier to avoid. True to her nature, Brienne of Tarth spends most of the day training the latest recruits.

During her first few days at Winterfell, Jo’ would spy their training, half hiding in the shadows. She didn’t want to attract the attention of the fighters. However, her fingers would itch of having a sword in her hands again and join them.

Her mom is everything she remembers her to be as a teacher: demanding but compassionate. For hours, Jo’ observes the way she corrects the position of a hand on a sword, how she shows a new technique to her students, suggesting one of one exercise.

Then, Jo’ could not take it anymore. She notices her mother is always getting to the training yard at the same time every morning. So, she decides to sneak in the training yard even earlier to practice, ignoring every warning signal her brain is sending her.

_Bad idea._

But she is too stubborn to admit it.

It feels so good to hit something with a sword again.

“You fight well with a sword.”

Jo’ startles and turns around, though she would recognize that voice anywhere. _Oh no._ She could almost see her best friend and cousin Cat rolling her eyes at her, saying _I told you so_.

Ser Brienne of Tarth (wait, is she a Ser yet? The timeline is all messed up in her head) is standing behind her with a wooden sword, her face rosy from the cold morning wind and a slight proud smile on her lips. Joanna’s heart fills up with warmth at the thought her mother would be proud of her even more, without knowing who she was.

She lets one extremity of the wooden sword rests on the ground as her hands casually fall on the other extremity.

“I know, I had the best teachers, but thank you, Ser,” she smirks.

“I’m not a knight. Do you always come to train this early in the morning?”

_Only when I’m trying to avoid you and other people I know._

“No. I took some time to get used to Winterfell and the North. It’s so cold here. I like the quiet at this hour. You can actually hear yourself think.”

Her mother nods, quick and determined. Jo’ then lets her whole body relax, her lips curving up in a real smile. She’s always loved that about her mom. Jo’ could talk her head off with her and she would let her, always listening intently.

She always has a calming effect on her, as if, by her sheer presence, she makes Jo’ feel safe and alright.

“You can join one of my training groups if you want. I am certain you could show the younger children a thing or two.”

Would others see any odd similarities between her fighting style and her parents’? On the other hand, however, the battle against the dead is getting closer and closer. It would be wise to train if she wishes to participate. Plus, she has always loved, back home, teaching the little ones about fighting.

Her mother’s forehead creases and she sees a flash of compassion in her eyes. Oh, this is where she will ask questions about the fact Jo’ comes from the future, isn’t it? Perhaps she will ask about what her future is?

“I’m sorry you had to get through all of this – leaving your family behind, not knowing if they are even alive…It’s – Unfair.”

Warmth spreads in her body, pushing away the cold of winter for a minute.

She should have known Brienne of Tarth would show her that much kindness without knowing who she was to her – Who she will be.

She should have known people changes as time passes, but they are still the same at their core.

Her mother suggests a sparring session before the other students arrive. She accepts, smiling broadly.

***

Some days after the trial, a man finds Joanna in the dinner hall. He is tall and grey with a friendly face. She heard from other soldiers that he is the Hand of the king.

Queen Danaerys and Lord Snow want to talk to her, right now.

She follows the man – Davos – to the council room. The Queen is waiting for her arms crossed, her eyebrows arched. Lord Snow welcomes her with a broody nod, standing straight beside his queen.

Her uncle is on the other side of the Queen, a slight pleased smile painted on his face. Lady Sansa’s face is as unreadable as steel but determined.

Then, Lord Snow finally talks.

“I hope Winterfell is welcoming to you, my Lady. As to us, we are making battle plans for the war against the Night King, but we need more information from you about the future and how you think we could change it so our world doesn’t meet its end.”

Joanna accepts to help them, but admits she hasn’t found a solution yet. Still, she tells them about their future and all the tales she heard about the events to lead up to it.

However, as days go by, an idea forms in her head.

It’s a painful idea, and barely everyone will agree with her, she knows.

Her instinct tells her it’s the idea she has been waiting for.

Joanna asks for a secret meeting with Lord Snow, her uncle, and the Queen. They are the ones that should be the most open to her idea.

First, they all frown and ask for proof of what she says is true. Then, she explains who should be protecting Bran Stark during the war and how they could take advantage of the boy playing the bait for the Night King to end everything.

***

“You are Tyrion’s daughter, isn’t it?”

Her father slides on a bench facing her at lunchtime, in the dinner hall. She had been joyously talking to little Pod while eating. He was so small and boyish, barely out of childhood and looked so different from the man grown she had known all her life.

Jo’ stops talking, her mug of ale raised in her hand, her eyes on her father.

“I thought you were supposed to help your Lady Brienne train the recruits, not try to figure out what my life is in the future.”

“Ah, she is doing fine on her own,” he answers, making a vague gesture with his hand.

“She knocked you down in the snow again during sparring, isn’t it?”

“ _Again?_ How many times have you spied on us, little one?”

She shrugs in reply.

“So, tell me, because I’m running out of options here. You are obviously not a dwarf, but as far as I can recall, there are not many Lannister dwarfs. If he survives the war, my brother will certainly manage to get in a position of power and settle in a good political marriage. Children would be the logical results of it – “

“You think I look like your brother Tyrion?” she interrupts.

She has never seen someone so blind to see the answer that was right in front of him. Cersei and now Tyrion? Really? She loves her uncle, of course, but they could not be more different in looks and personality.

Pod quietly snorts beside her. She turns and exchanges an amused look with him. Could _Pod_ have figured it out before her own father did? Well, thinking of it, he did spend a lot of time with both of her parents years before she was born and he had always been like a big brother to her in her present…

“Maybe?”

“ _No_ ,” she replies, half-laughing. “Well, Tyrion does get married and have children, but they are auburn-haired or golden-red haired, not blond as I am. Why is it so important for you to know?”

Her father lets his eyes roam the room, avoiding looking at her directly. For the first time since he sat on the bench in front of her, he looks strangely calm, resigned even.

“It’s _fun_ to guess the future. Having a little fun before dying in the battle against the dead doesn’t hurt.”

Oh, so this is why he can’t figure out she is his daughter. He simply can’t imagine even living after the war. Her heart breaks in a million pieces for him. _You should tell him._

She opens her mouth, the words burning her tongue, her heart beating faster and her hands sweating, but –

Her father mutters some words, slides off the bench and out of the dinner hall.

Pod offers her a sad smile but says nothing to indicate that he knows. Instead, he pours ale in both their mugs and gives her a piece of his bread and cheese.

***

The war is getting closer.

The whole castle buzzes with anticipation. In the yard, men and women train with a renewed energy, fear emanating from them. They are desperately hoping to survive one more battle so they can go back to their wives and normal lives.

She trains in the yard, trying to hide her shaking hands as she wields her sword to recreate a movement. From the corner of her eyes, she sees Lady Sansa passing across the yard for what seems to be the hundredth times since the start of the day to prepare for the war to come.

Snowflakes fall from the grey sky and a cold wind sneaks in her fur cloak. Her sword slips through her hands and falls on the ground. She contains a curse. 

What happens if she dies during the war? Or, worse, what if one of her parents die? Would she suddenly stop existing and disappear into thin air? Why haven’t the other children from her present showed up at Winterfell or sent her word they were safe already? Would the dead catch them before she could?

What if everyone back home was wrong and it was impossible to change their future?

She glances at her fighting companions for a moment. Her father has made his way to her mother in the yard and, if the frown and the slight smile she wears is any indication, he is his usual charming but annoying self. Her mother throws him a wooden sword to challenge him and he takes the sword with a smirk.

She decides to tell them who she really is. Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm a bit late on posting, but I had a bit of a plot problem...
> 
> Yep, s8 never existed and this fic will only take into account 1-2 things from that mess haha...including oathkeeper family :D
> 
> Hope you forgive me for this small cliffhanger!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime finds out who Joanna really is. Joanna takes a decision on a whim which could put her in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! It's hard to work on fics when you are out of town for the Holidays (well, extended Holidays). Plus, I had trouble with that Tyrion and Jaime scene....Hope you like it!
> 
> However, about the story, let's just say that Jaime Lannister is not the only one in the family making stupid and dangerous decisions on a whim. Must be in their DNA ;)

Jaime falls down on the chair beside the fireplace, trying to warm his body up after a rough day of training in the yard. The flames eat out the darkness left by the shadows in the room, though it is not nearly enough to chase away the extreme cold of the North.

He sighs, finally comfortable – or, if nothing else, as comfortable as he could get in Winterfell.

“Here we are, us, the two Lannisters brothers, sitting amongst wolves, at the eve of the greatest battle humanity will ever fight. Who would have thought this possible?” says a voice from behind Jaime, in the dark, that he immediately recognizes as his brother’s. His lips curve up in a smile. Tyrion Lannister walks in the room and joins Jaime beside the fireplace.

“Our father must be turning over in his grave at this point,” he replies, his smile melting into a laugh.

“So much efforts he put into preserving the wealthy Lannister legacy and it all turns to shit, thanks to us,” Tyrion adds, his tone light and sarcastic. He raises the cup of wine he is still holding as if to clink glasses to this fact and takes a long sip.

Jaime observes his brother for a few seconds, his heart full. Some years ago, when Tyrion had killed their father, the thought of his brother had filled him with boiling anger. Today, the banter and teasing between them felt as warm and comfortable than sitting beside a fireplace after a full day of physical effort and bitter cold.

Tyrion finally lowers his cup of wine and wipes his mouth clean. He stares at the flames for some minutes, but he is the same as Jaime. He needs to keep talking, fill the silence with words. “What would our father think of the latest addition to our family, do you think? Would he find the girl from the future _worthy of the Lannister Legacy_?” He snorts at his own jest, obviously thinking it is the funniest one he had come up with. Or he had too much to drink. Or both.

“You must already be very drunk if you think our father even found either of us _worthy of the Lannister Legacy,_ at the end.”

“So easy to say when you were his Golden, son,” replies Tyrion, waving his words away with a movement of his hand.

“More like a useless silver son lacking a paw now,” Jaime snorts.

Surely, his Father would not think highly of his golden son anymore. He had betrayed his family and allied with the Starks to fight against the army of the dead. Would Tywin Lannister see any political benefits in coming North to help in the fight? He always saw his enemies, his allies and even his own children as chess pieces he could move around as much as needed to meet his political goals and eliminate every obstacle in his way.

For years, Jaime had been Tywin Lannister’s Golden son, his heir and hope to build a durable legacy for the Lannisters. Then, he had disappointed his Father all over again because he came back home a cripple and refused to leave the Kingsguard to play his role as the heir of Kingslanding. Even Cersei used to call him a cripple and yell that it was his fault if their father died because he was stupid enough to get Tyrion out of jail. It had taken her some days to allow him to kiss him again, but he was convincing enough. Then, she had betrayed him deeply, lying to him about her plans, choosing to trust Euron Greyjoy instead of him, calling him the stupidest Lannister.

For them, Jaime was not the golden lion anymore, but a joke, a stupid silver cat, he thought, bitter.

What would Cersei and Father think of the Lannister girl from the future?

Jaime stares at the flames for a minute, lost in his thoughts. The girl is definitely…something.

Oh, Cersei would _loathe_ her, no doubt – if not simply because she is what Cersei could never be. She _is_ a Lannister. Her confidence, golden hair and fierce love for her family are proof enough. She risked her life to save him, after all.

She is also _different_. Her eyes are blue instead of green, and her face, freckled. She could assist Brienne in showing a beginner’s move to the younger recruits hundreds of times in the training yard until they succeed, fixing the position of their hands or their feet each time while laughing and teasing the children at the appropriate times. She would start a snowball fight with Pod to cheer him up when Brienne was being a bit too hard on him so he would learn. Jaime loves his family to pieces, but the idea that either his brother or his sister would show that much kindness and patience in the same circumstances is simply hilarious. 

The girl also knows how to fight with a sword, and the skills she shows at the training yard make it obvious she has been training for some years, though she is young and lacks experience of the battle still.

At her age, Cersei was forced to marry and produce heirs. She was kept away from sword fighting and other male roles, even though she saw herself as capable as a man, the Lannister heir. Joanna was not married, probably because of the long war against the others, which forced her family to have other priorities. She had to learn how to fight in order to survive, Jaime supposes, still amazed by her strength.

What about their father, however?

“I have to admit I’m starting to like her,” Tyrion says, interrupting his train of thoughts. “She reminds me a lot of you, rightly so, if I’m being honest with myself.” He tilts slightly his head, still looking at Jaime, eyes shining with drunkenness and a hint of teasing Jaime doesn’t understand. “I don’t think he would appreciate her sword fighting skills as much as you seem to. It would make it harder to find a good match for her.”

“Why, little brother, is this a way to tell me you find me good with a sword and that you like me?” Jaime jokes, a laugh falling from his lips. “She’s a great kid, as fierce and smart as a girl of her age can be, so I’ll take it as a compliment.” He is startled by the softness that suddenly finds its way in his last few words.

Is it a surprise, though? Jaime had spent the last few days following Brienne around and spending time with Joanna when the girl was in their surroundings and not avoiding them. Even after hours talking and annoying them, he had never truly realized –

How much he likes them both, somehow.

“Of course, you would say this,” Tyrion says, rolling his eyes as if Jaime had just spoken something that is so obvious to everyone else but him.

“What?” He is not certain if his brother was mocking him or being serious.

“ _Please_ , Jaime, cut the crap. I know you are her father – or that you will be, at the least. Plus, you have spent the last few days following around Lady Brienne and trying to know more about that Lannister girl. You are not exactly subtle, big brother.”

_What does this mean?_

Jaime freezes. Seconds pass. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. How can he even react to this news? How could he have a daughter _years_ in the future that is not Cersei’s when he is not supposed to survive the battle against the army of the dead? How could an old one-handed knight win against dead in person when he has been as talented with a sword as a green boy since they cut his hand off?

“That’s impossible, brother. She told me she wasn’t Cersei’s –

“You asked her if she were you and _Cersei’s_ daughter? Gods, Jaime –“

Jaime narrows his eyes at him.

“Bran Stark says the girl is a Lannister, and Cersei is pregnant. She says…she told me the babe is mine,” Jaime pauses. He tries to avoid looking at his brother’s face, unsure if he already knew about the babe or not. He doesn’t believe he would be able to handle the judgmental look he would certainly find in his eyes. “There are not many options left if you are right and I am supposed to be her father, especially given _my_ _amazingly high_ odds of surviving this war.” He almost grimaces at how much his attempt to hide his discomfort with sarcasm seems to fall short. The word father sounds foreign on his tongue. Last time it was used to refer to him, his daughter had died in his arms seconds later.

“Well, brother, Joanna basically confirmed to me that Lady Brienne was to be her mother, brother. It seems like you survive long enough to be with another woman than our sweet sister.”

His heart skips a beat. His head reminds him that Brienne would never go so low as to sleep with the Kingslayer. She deserves more than a one-handed knight that use to fuck his sister and is called oathbreaker by everyone except for her. She deserves everything.

“Why would she tell you, of all people, and not me?” Jaime asks, instead, a bolt of jealousy going through his body. Jaime knows what people say about his behind his back. That is not about to change because he decided to go North to fight the army of the dead on a heroic whim. For all he knows, Joanna found out about his past and his horrible reputation and decided to pretend family ties never existed between them. It is also easy to imagine he could fuck up so badly in the future she would rather forget about him. He had managed to fail to protect three of his bastard children, after all. What a father he was.

“She didn’t, brother. I guessed, right after the trial. As I said before, she reminded me of you and defended you so fiercely that it was an easy guess.”

He has a daughter with Brienne in the future. His heart flutters at the thought as if he has living butterflies living inside him.

However, something is off with the girl. Why would she hide who she is from them, her family? He has the feeling Brienne doesn’t know either, given how she acts with the girl.

“I’m sorry, Jaime,” Tyrion starts, glancing at him with sad eyes. “I thought she had told you already. I suppose that after the Queen threatened to execute you both, she tried to protect herself by hiding any other ties she could have with you. It’s…a smart move, especially given the fact you were temporarily safe.”

“She thinks well,” he agrees, staring at the flames again. _His daughter_.

His heart blooms with pride at the thought. Warmth has finally made its way through his body. He hates the fucking North, but not as much as he did when he first arrived now. A smile slowly lights up his face.

“Please, don’t go all cheesy on me because you are now aware you have a daughter.”

Then, a flash goes through his mind. There is an information Joanna did tell him about Tyrion. He smiles mischief glinting in his eyes and turns toward his brother.

“She told me you have children too, in her future – auburn-haired and red-blond haired children, to be more precise.”

“She did?” Tyrion replies, gleaming, and tilts his head. “Or are you teasing me again?”

Jaime takes a second to watch his brother, his eyebrow raised. He’d never thought his brother wanted children that hard.

“I could never be as cruel as to tease you about these things, brother.”

“We both know that’s not true, but I will believe you this time.”

***

Jo’ lets out a breath and mist expulses from her mouth into the darkness of the evening. She rests her hands on the top of the battlements and observes the world below her.

Finally, she could breathe.

Finally, she is free, in some way at the least.

She hid in her bedchamber for some hours after dinner. She wanted to think in the quiet and figure out what to do next.

All she succeeded to do was walking around her bedchamber with nervous energy, her thoughts blending together and going in every possible direction. The war. The army of the dead. Her parents. The other kids she still couldn’t go and find. Her little brothers. The future they wanted to alter.

After some time, it felt as if the walls of her bedchambers were closing up on her. She had to get out of there.

So, she did.

She got outside, wishing to see stars or any other hint of hope.

She found, instead, a dark and cloudy sky and a fog of snow going as far as her eye could see beyond the walls of Winterfell. So, she closes her eyes for a second and takes a deep breath to calm herself down.

“Really? You don’t freeze your ass off enough during the day, so you choose to spend time outside _again_ during the evening?”

Her eyes startle open, but after a second she figures out who this is and her lips curve up in a smile, letting out a soft laugh. “You’re such a whiner! Don’t worry, you live in the South, at a warm place, in the future. Well, until winter comes again that is,” she teases.

It feels familiar, like an old blanket you roll into when it’s cold.

It reminds her of home.

Snow and ice crack under his boots, until he too rests his hands beside hers on the battlements, breathing out mist in the cold. She feels his eyes on her but she doesn’t look back. Not yet. For now, she gathers up her strength and readies herself for the moment she would have to tell him who she is. Nervous butterflies roam in her stomach. Part of herself wishes to find an excuse and run away. The other nudges her to be brave.

In the dark blue sky, some clouds move forward and the fog of snow scatters. For a second or two, the moon crescent appears, big and bright, and a few stars pop up as if the spirit of Tarth itself was encouraging her to move forward with the truth.

“Tyrion told me everything. Who you are,” he starts again, his face growing serious.

“Oh,” is the only thing she whispers in the darkness.

“The last time I told a kid I was her father, she died in my arms seconds later,” he adds, his voice low and half broken. “I suppose it’s an improvement that I didn’t have to tell you this time.”

Oh, she wishes she could hug him tight and tell him about the years of happiness their family had before the world turned to shit again. She doesn’t.

“I know,” she replies instead, sad. “You told me about Myrcella and Tommen. I’m so sorry you had to get through this. I wish I’d known them. I think we would have been best friends.”

She turns her head, finally, meeting his green eyes filled with surprise. Maybe it is too early for her to tell him this, considering Tommen had killed himself only a few months prior? _Crap, she should have thought longer before speaking._

“Perhaps. I didn’t know them much. I could have tried harder to get close to them.” He looks beyond the walls of Winterfell now, elsewhere, far away from the snow and the North and the upcoming war.

There is a longing in his eyes – longing for what he’d lost, what could have been with Myrcella and Tommen, she supposes.

It hurts and catches her by surprise to see such darkness and regrets in his eyes. Her father sure had his secrets, including some she will probably never know, but she had always known him with a smile on his face and a laugh on his lips even, sometimes at the least, during the second war against the others. He was doing so them, his children, would not be too afraid, she knows now.

She softly bumps his shoulder. Her father startles out of his thoughts and slightly tilts his head, his eyes shining with amusement. _Oh_ , is it possible he is not used to his lovers and children having such complicity with him?

“You’re close to _us_. That matters, too,” she adds then.

“Us?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, _us_. Me. Mother. The twins. We were all happy before winter came.”

“Twins,” he repeats in a whisper, a gleam flashing in his eyes.

“Yes, twin boys. They are quieter and wiser than I’ll ever be, though they are younger.”

Her father chuckles and observes her again as if he couldn’t quite believe she was his daughter and really standing beside him.

“You should have told us – _me_ – after the trial. Why didn’t you?” he asks, interrupting the silence, his soft and comforting voice truly reminding her of her Father from back home.

Joanna takes in a breath. She expected that this particular question would come up at some point, maybe not as soon as tonight, however. Again, she had only decided to tell her parents the truth some hours ago. She lowers her gaze toward her hands on the top of the battlements. Her thick brown leather gloves contrasted with the sheer white snow, but some of the cold still goes through the materials and freezes her skin.

“I - No one knows what happens when you travel back in the past and you interact with persons you recognize from your future. I just didn’t want to risk screwing up our lives in the future further because I told you about me and you made a different choice without knowing the consequences it would have on the future.”

“I _never_ make rash choices without thinking about the consequences,” Jaime says. Joanna rolls her eyes at him.

“Sure. I would believe you if I hadn’t heard tales about you charging a living dragon with a spear.”

“Oh, I see. You heard _these_ tales – “ her father starts with a grin.

“My point is, I had no way to know how you would react to the news after the trial, or if the Queen would imprison me when she finds out the truth – or worse things to punish you through me.”

“Well, I would certainly have reacted _better_ to the news than the Dragon Queen herself,” Jaime jokes and Joanna, despite narrowing her eyes at him, feels a smile tugging at her lips. “In all seriousness,” he quickly adds, “I’m glad I know about you now.”

“Sometimes I wonder how Brienne could survive about twenty years of this without attempting to murder you.”

“Almost a miracle in itself.”

Joanna rolls her eyes. Oh, if he knew how _cheesy_ they could be at times in the future.

“Watch your back still. Don’t forget she has three allies on her side.”

“Oh, I know how to defend myself just fine with one hand and no one can resist my handsomeness. Wait until I get a dragon glass hand done. You will want to switch side fast enough,” he smirks.

This time, her smile is broad and amused as she turns to him. Jaime meets her eyes, but yet another question is burning his tongue, waiting to get asked.

“Did the twins travel back in the past as well?” 

Her smile suddenly melts, and her face grows somber.

“They were supposed to, but – I don’t think they’ll make it before the battle, and the Queen forbid me to leave to look for them.”

“You should talk to the Starks tomorrow about it. I’ll go with you look for the twins and the other kids.”

She knows he would. However, she is not certain this is a good idea. They need him and his sword at Winterfell if they want to have a chance to win the battle and kill the Night King.

***

Joanna slides the note under the door of her father’s bedchamber (she had to warn someone, at the least, of her actions).

After she talked to her father, she thought about what to do next, sitting on her bed in the hope to calm her panicking heart. If she waited until the morning as her father suggested, she would not be able to convince him not to come with her to look for the other children, she knew.

The thing was, he needed to be at Winterfell during the battle against the army of the dead. It was not only because they needed all available men to fight to even hope to win – her father was to play a huge role in the plan they were preparing to change the future. He simply didn’t know it yet. No, there was no way she should let him come with her, though the part of her that was scared longed for his protection, like when she was a child. Plus, what if her brothers and the other children don’t survive the war? What if she waits after the battle and only find their bodies? What if her father died because he came with her?

No, she had to leave now, she convinced herself.

Joanna heads to the stables. In the darkness, she finds the horse she used on the road to Winterfell. She has some hours before someone realizes she is gone and tells Danearys.

It leaves her time enough to find the others.

The horse’s hooves hit the hard snow and ice, making it cracks softly. The sound resonates in the entire yard in a way that makes her stop the horse in fear that she may have woken up the whole castle.

She waits a few seconds – nothing, but snow falling and crows screaming. She sighs and guides her horse toward the gate out of Winterfell.

***

Joanna kills a wight for the first time in the middle of a snowstorm, after some days on the road.

She hears a scream and her blood freezes in her veins. She sees nothing else in her surroundings than foggy white and some snowflakes, and snow, snow, and more snow.

She raises her sword and tries to locate the other person. The wight appears in front of her out of nowhere – she screams. The thing is death in person, a rotten corpse with barely any skin left to hide the bones.

It jumps on her. She waves her sword in defense and kills it with one blow to what’s left of its chest. It falls on the ground like a sack of bones.

For a second she stares at the thing on the ground.

She has seen wights before, though they didn’t reach their island up to right before she left for the past. Tarth had become a refuge for the survivors that lived inland Westeros, as at first, the wights couldn’t get past the water.

This is different, however. She doesn’t have any family or an army behind her for protection. She killed the wight by herself because she had to.

Joanna is only pulled out of her thoughts when a shadow appears in the snow in front of her. She raises her sword again, her arms shaking from shock and exhaustion, but it is her cousin Cat that turns up instead of another wight. The girl recognizes her after some seconds and there is a smile in her voice when she calls out her name. The girls jump in each other arms with relief.

***

Then, they fight.

Joanna tells Cat what happened in Winterfell during the time she was there. Cat wants to go back to Winterfell as soon as she hears that the army of the dead is getting closer. She is also curious about her parents in the past.

Joanna wants to search for her brothers – the army of the dead be damned. If they can change things to save humans from extinction, they will do so when they come back. She will not go back until her brothers and the other younger kids are safe in the castle.

She wins from pure stubbornness.

***

Another night comes – moonless and starless again.

They tie up the horses and set camp somewhere out of nowhere. The roads, the forest, and their surroundings are all swallowed by the whiteness of snow. Cat starts a fire, and the tiny flames soon start cracking in the night. Jo’ pulls out of her travel bag some bread she stole from the Winterfell kitchen and passes some to Cat.

They sit as close to the fire and to each other as they can. Neither of them talks – Jo’ already told her the rest of the story of what happened at Winterfell when they were on the road.

Joanna convinces Cat to go get some rest. She noticed how much trouble she had staying on her horse toward the end of the day. She takes the first shift.

***

In the middle of the night, snow cracks under feet and tree branches move loudly. Joanna’s eyes startle open and she curses herself for being sleepy in the middle of her shift.

She jumps up and unsheathes her sword, looking around to locate the stranger _or strangers_.

No one is here.

She holds her breath, tries to stop her hand from shaking, tries to stop her heart from breaking out of her chest.

There is a shadow, a few miles away. Or is it the snow and the wind playing tricks on her brain? The fire went out sometimes when she wasn’t looking. Bitter cold soars through her cloak and clothes.

Another man-shaped shadow appears.

Leaving the castle was a mistake, she realizes.

Arms extend to grab her from behind and she screams, but the stranger puts a hand on her mouth to shut her off. She swings her sword behind her blindly and hears a groan. She doesn’t know where she hit him, so she moves again, but he grabs her sword arm to keep her from moving. She struggles against him for some time and almost gets herself out of his grip.

To keep her from doing just that, the stranger stabs her below her right armpit. She screams and screams and falls on the ground while the pain spreads like wildfire in her body. She hears Cat doing the same from behind her while the other stranger pulls her out of the tent and drops her beside Jo’. Half conscious from the pain, Jo’ hears the thump of her body in the snow and her voice more than she sees her.

Finally, one of the men talks. “You are traitors of the Queen. We are to bring you back to Winterfell to face her justice.”

Joanna loses consciousness before she can reply.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime finds a letter from Joanna and he goes to the person he trusts the most at Winterfell to come up with a plan. At the eve of the battle against the dead, Cat and a wounded Joanna arrive at Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still here, still writing. Life has been kicking my ass lately, so I apologize for the lack of updates. I hope this long chapter makes up for it. I tried to edit it quicker so I would be able to post today :D

Jaime finds Joanna’s letter under his door the morning after she left.

He reads it with an arched eyebrow, at first. Soon, his heart twists in his chest.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

What was she thinking, disobeying a direct order from the Dragon Queen? The same Queen that had almost executed them both for no other reason than the fact they were Lannisters? By doing so, Joanna is positioning herself as a traitor to the crown – well, according to the Dragon Queen at the least.

His mind flashes back to that moment on a boat from Dorne, when beautiful and sweet Myrcella discussed love with him. When the revelation of him being her father turned to ashes in his mouth after his newly found daughter fell dead in his arms, blood dripping from her nose.

His mind flashes back to adorable Tommen, falling deeply in love with his queen Margaery but seeing her dying by the hand of his own mother, in front of his eyes. His own mother that had then accused him of betraying her, going as far as to say he deserved death for this reason.

Jaime has to act, to do something, _anything_ , before the worse happens to her, before the queen finds his daughter. What would she do to her for disobeying her? He doesn’t trust the mad king's daughter to be merciful, especially after seeing her in action in Winterfell.

Truth be told, he is uncertain he would survive the death of another of his children.

What should he do about it? Maybe Tyrion could help him. However, could his brother keep a secret from the Dragon Queen, his Queen?

He cannot be certain – he has seen the way Tyrion looks at her.

There is one person he could trust with this information instead.

***

“Good morning, Ser Jaime,” Pod says with a broad smile as soon as Jaime sits on the bench at their usual table, in the dinner hall. Jaime nods in reply. He is not in the mood for Pod’s happy morning cheer.

“Have you seen Joanna this morning, Ser? She was not at the training yard,” he continues, oblivious to Jaime’s mood.

 _Oh, shit._ He forgot the two of them had grown closer in the last days. Or is it that they are close in the future and Jo’ had simply picked up things where they left off? Jaime could not tell the difference anymore. _Damn time traveling_.

Brienne is staring at him with arched eyebrows. He realizes he must have taken too long to answer for his reply to flow naturally. Who cares if she believes him or not now, though, if he plans to tell her anyway? He supposes he will simply have to tell her earlier than he expected to.

He still avoids her eyes.

“Why would I know more than any other person in this room what the girl is up to?” he snaps, instead of telling them the truth that is burning his tongue.

“I, I, I don’t know, Ser,” Pod answers, lowering his head. “It’s, it’s just that I noticed you, you, you have been spending time with her as well.”

Great, now Jaime _also_ feels bad for snapping at Pod. What a great morning he has.

Brienne scowls at him as if she is attempting to dig a hole in his head by her look only. He focuses on his breakfast instead of paying attention.

“Pod,” she starts, and he knows she still doesn’t turn her eyes off him while speaking – he can feel them. “I need to talk to Ser Jaime for a minute. Can you prepare the yard for the next training group and wait for me there?”

“Yes, my Lady, of course, my Lady.” He takes his plate, and Jaime hears his quick steps as he is leaving the dining hall. Brienne only talks again when Pod’s steps diminish.

“What is wrong with you this morning?” she scolds. Then, Brienne seems to notice something on his face, and her eyes soften. “Jaime?”

“She left,” Jaime finally breathes out. “Joanna sneaked out during the night to find the other children from the future.” He never thought he would say these words out loud, he ironically thinks to himself.

Brienne’s mouth opens in surprise, worry lines creasing her forehead. After all, she had known the girl in the training yard and in Winterfell, because the castle was not such a big castle you could easily avoid some persons. “But the Queen ordered her to stay, that’s treason.”

“You think I don’t know that? I was there at my trial, Wench. The Dragon Queen wanted to burn us both with dragon fire.”

“Does the Queen know yet?”

“No, thanks the gods, but let’s try to keep it that way as long as possible.”

“She is barely out of childhood, Jaime. I doubt the Queen would go as far as feeding her to the dragons, even for treason,” Brienne says with a frown.

“Oh, Wench, I wish I had your ability to see the good in that family,” Jaime replies with a sarcastic laugh.

He pulls a carefully folded piece of paper out of a pocket inside his jacket. He extends his arm to place it in front of Lady Brienne. She follows his movement with her eyes, meeting his only for a second to give him a questioning look.

“Read it,” he encourages her.

She takes the piece of paper and opens it, her hands brushing the fingers he had left on the table in the process.

He sees the moment the words she reads sink in. Her forehead creases in confusion, but he waits a few more seconds.

“It says you are her father in the future,” she glances at him again, half asking a question to him.

 _Ah, there it is_. The moment he has to tell her. He fears she will be ashamed of being with such a man as him in the future. How will she react when she finds out she has a child with the Kingslayer, the man that used to fuck his sister – a child that is apparently all Lannister? _And two twin boys, he should not forget._

“Yes,” he says, withdrawing his hand from the table. “She told me the night before she left.”

Sad disappointment shadows her deep blue eyes, but she hides it almost immediately. However, she is not fast enough so he doesn’t notice. A weight falls in his stomach. This is it, the shame of who he is and what her future would look like.

Brienne’s eyes avoid his and fall on the piece of paper she is holding again. She closes it and proceeds to fold it as it were before, focusing too much on the task for it to appear a natural gesture. Jaime wants to laugh at her poor attempt to occupy her hands so she could sort out her thoughts.

“I – I understand. It makes sense. You did tell me your sister was pregnant and you lov – “

“Wash the disappointment off your face, Wench, it doesn’t suit you, he replies, his jaw tight with annoyance. Why does she always draw such premature conclusions? Why does she always go back to Cersei when he left her to fight beside Brienne? “She is not Cersei’s. She’s yours.”

Brienne pulls her hand back beside her, dropping the piece of paper in the process as if it were poisoned. She observes Jaime, her face growing serious, her defenses up all of a sudden. “Don’t mock me about this. We both know it would never happen.”

Jaime also pulls his hand back from the table, frowning, not understanding. “I am not mocking you. Is this who you still think I am?” he replies, his voice low, wounded.

Her face melts. She must have realized she misread the situation, he thinks. “No, of course, _no_ ,” Brienne insists. “Jaime – I meant what I told the Queen during your trial. You are an honorable man.” Her eyes wander over his shoulders, taking in the room and the people Jaime could hear eating, drinking and laughing behind him. Then, she looks at him again. “It is simply that, what you said – the girl being mine – is impossible, and we both know it. She is golden and beautiful just like you. You have seen what I look like.”

Jaime meets her blue and astonishing eyes, a protest on his lips when he realizes –

Oh.

“She has your eyes,” he says instead of replying to her, almost a whisper on his lips. His annoyance and anger had all evaporated at the sight, and Jaime is left gazing at her eyes, hypnotized.

Brienne draws in a breath, and for an instant, he is certain she believes him now – or, at the least, she wants to. She opens her mouth to say something but closes it without saying a word. She lowers her eyes on the table.

“It does not make it truer,” she finally says, standing up.

She leaves.

_Damn stubborn Wench._

***

Later in the morning, Jaime joins her at the training yard despite their argument during breakfast. Brienne is training another group of young girls but despite his best effort, she is carefully avoiding his eyes. He chooses a wooden stick and almost forces a poor Northerner soldier to train with him for some minutes.

Jaime lets the poor soldier knock him down in the snow once or twice. Then the soldier grumbles some excuses and practically runs away from the training yard.

Jaime rests the end of his wooden sword in the snow and observes Brienne teaching some steps away from where he is standing. Brienne has gathered the young girls around her and is busy pairing them up for an exercise. Some of the youngest girls, still quite unaware of the danger awaiting them, are busy babbling up at her. Brienne listens patiently, sometimes squatting to be at their levels, making sure her eyes are meeting theirs and wearing a slight friendly smile.

 _Will she also act that way with our children_? His heart inflates with warmth at the thought, but he pushes it away. This future may still never happen – he doesn’t want to hope too much.

“You are still a very busy man, I see,” someone says from beside him. Jaime turns his head around and sees, as he guessed, his brother.

“As long as I can stay away from the dragons, I don’t care how busy I look,” he shrugs.

“Have your eyes been too busy with your Lady today to notice Joanna was gone?” teases Tyrion. His eyes scan the training field as if making sure no one is eavesdropping.

Huh, this is odd.

“She is?” he replies, playing dumb and falsely nonchalant. If Tyrion knows now, it means the Dragon Queen knows. That fact alone puts Joanna in greater danger than she is and much quicker than he expected.

“ _Please_ , Jaime. I’m not a fool. I tell you she’s – _who she is_ – and the day after she’s gone?” He glimpses at their surroundings again.

“Are you and your dear Queen accusing me of helping her leave?”

“No,” Tyrion answers, the words out of his mouth as soon as Jaime finishes speaking. “I’m here to warn you, Jaime. Someone told the Queen some minutes ago. She’ll send men in search of her today.”

“Are you telling me your Queen has dragons and, yet, she feels threatened by an eighteen years old girl that disobeyed one of her orders?” Jaime replies with a mocking smirk, though his heart beats so hard it may break his chest.

“No,” Tyrion insists, forever in defense of his Queen. “Her authority in the North and the loyalty of the Northern army are still fragile. She can’t afford being defied by a girl, especially not a Lannister. No one in the North will take the Queen seriously if she doesn’t make an example out of Joanna.”

“If you say so,” Jaime answers, even though he knows his brother is right. A plan to help her starts taking shape in his mind. He moves to turn away from his brother, but he isn’t done with him yet.

“Jaime,” Tyrion calls out. “Please, don’t do anything stupid to help her. I have a plan for when they bring her back before the Queen.”

“You would betray your own Queen to save her?” Jaime asks with an uncertain frown.

“Of course,” Tyrion answers, almost insulted Jaime has to ask. “She’s my niece. She’s family.”

***

Her body swings to the horse’s trot on the saddle. Right. Left. Right. Left. The cold creeps out under her cloak, freezing her body as quick as a fever spreading. Someone is holding her in place on the saddle. Joanna feels her delicate hands around her shoulders.

Oh. _Cat’s_ hands, she realizes, all of a sudden.

Snow prickles on her face and she grimaces.

Then, the horse suddenly stops, and her mind startles back into reality as if someone were finally pulling her head out of the water after almost drowning.

She remembers the two armed men attacking their camp. _Men of the Queen_. She remembers trying to defend herself and Cat before the glint of a knife put an end to her attempt.

Her whole body hurts. She attempts to move to see what is going on, but the pain tears up her body again and she groans. The hands on her shoulders hold on tighter to her. “Shh,” Cat whispers. “They are attempting to convince the guard to let us enter in Winterfell.”

Jo’ squints her eyes to see through the fog of snow that seems to be surrounding their horses. Her clouded mind perceives darker and blurry shapes standing before them with their horses and another set of human shapes facing them.

A wall rests in front of the travelers, high and thick as city walls.

Voices get half lost in the cold wind.

“Look, the Queen ordered it. Would you rather go get her and look like fools in front of her because you would not let her people and her prisoners in?” One of the silhouettes in front of her says, threatening.

The guards reply something back at them, but Joanna can’t make out the exact words, except for the fact that, apparently, the army of the dead will be there soon tonight.

Her horse moves toward the gate. The snow makes her vision blurry.

The words play in her mind again. _The army of the dead is coming tonight._

Joanna shivers with cold and sheer pain, and her mind loses itself in her memories to flee her reality. So, suddenly, the world around disappears, and she is back on Tarth again.

The first time she saw a wight was a few years ago – or in some years, depending on the point of view. Snow had been falling on Tarth again. Winter was settling in all over Westeros, taking cities and castles one by one.

They were running away from EvenFall castle. Snowflakes were falling from the grey sky in her blond hair. She had barely seen snow before, but she remembers how much they made her body cold. She was scared, but she could not resist looking up at the sky to see the snowflakes fall, stopping in her tracks.

When Joanna lowered her eyes, however, the dead thing was standing close to her – so much she could smell its rotting flesh, or what was left of it, dangling from its bones. The thing was moving toward her, though she was uncertain of how it was even able to walk.

So, she screamed.

Joanna must have made a sound in the present time because she feels Cat’s hands holding her tighter to keep them both on the horse as it is walking through the gate of Winterfell.

Joanna barely registers the movement before her mind is back on Tarth, in winter. In the past.

She was screaming. Before she could even slide her hand to her hips to get her knife, her mother pulls her away from the wight with renewed strength, grabs her swords and hit the thing through the chest.

One blow and the wight fell on the ground, unmoving, dark dust on white snow.

Her brothers were somewhere before her, with dad. She could hear them crying while dad tries to comfort them. She couldn’t stop staring at the dust that had been a wight some seconds ago.

Her mother pulled on her arm again, firmly but with tenderness. They needed to move forward, to run.

The wind blew away what was left of the wight.

And Joanna’s eyes startle open. Winterfell surrounds her, this time, even though she didn’t remember getting in. Colors and faces around her are blending with each other. A wave of nausea hits her, and her stomach churns.

“What happened?” A voice she recognizes as Jon Snow’s resonates in her ears.

Her guards mumble something to Jon Snow to recount the last events. Boots crack in the snow as steps are coming closer to her horse. Another set of hands rests near her wound, and she screams with pain again.

“This looks like a deep stabbing wound,” Sam Tarly observes. “It needs to be taken care of now before it gets more infected.”

“This is a self-defense wound, my Lord. She would not let us bring her back at Winterfell – “

“So, you _stabbed_ her?” Jon Snow finishes for him, one eyebrow arched, skeptical. “Sam, please bring her inside, to her room, and check her wound. I’ll deal with Daenerys myself. Has anyone seen the Lannisters?”

“I – I think they are inside, having one last drink before the battle with Lady Brienne, Lord Davos, and Tormund,” someone else she can’t see says. Dizziness blurs her sight, and a dark veil floats in front of her eyes, threatening to push her into the full blackness. 

“Good. Please find them and tell them what happened,” Lord Snow replies.

Joanna closes her eyes. She is tired, exhausted, and doesn’t have enough energy left in her to keep them open and follow what is going on in the yard. But she heard _her_ name.

“Mother,” she murmurs, but no one hears her.

Sam Tarly reaches for her to help her down her horse, but dark finally swallows her before he does so.

***

“Who the fuck are you?” Jaime Lannister asks, stopping in his track as soon as he enters Joanna’s room.

Jaime was told she was back at Winterfell wounded soon after he had knighted Lady Brienne. Of course, the poor guy had no idea who Joanna was to him and Brienne, so he had talked to both him and Tyrion instead.

It was as if a heavy rock had fallen in his stomach. Jaime had narrowed his eyes at Tyrion, his jaws tightening. So much for him having a plan to get her back safely at Winterfell. His brother’s eyes were pleading him to trust him still, but Jaime wasn’t certain he could, not anymore.

Jaime had risked a look at Brienne, but she was avoiding his eyes. The sheer joy he had seen on her face minutes ago was now tainted by worried creases in her forehead. Ah! Had she finally decided to believe him about Joanna?

Then, when Jaime had entered Joanna’s room, he found an unfamiliar blond-red haired girl sitting beside the bed. She jumps on her legs at his words and turns her rounded eyes toward him. She looks younger than Joanna, barely a woman yet. Then, recognition shines in her eyes, and her face relaxes.

“Ser…Jaime?” she replies, half a question and an affirmation.

 _Oh_ , she knows who he is. And she is sitting beside Joanna’s bed as if she were worried about her recovery…

“You are one of the children from the future Joanna went searching for, I presume. Glad to know my good looks are still recognizable in the future.”

“I’m Cat, Joanna’s cousin.” She crosses her arms. “I must admit having a good imagination, Ser.”

Does he look more like his father twenty years from now? Is Brienne still attracted to him, though he is definitely old and she is not? Jaime is almost afraid to ask for more details.

“Yet, you _still_ recognized me, so I must not look that bad.” Now that Cat told him she was a cousin, he could see the Lannister in her, though her hair and pale skin scream Tully or even Stark and she is staring at him with familiar green eyes. Same for her nose…

 _Wait_.

“You are Tyrion’s, not Cersei’s, but there are also some Stark in you,” Jaime ponders out loud. The idea of a Lannister marrying a Stark woman looks almost impossible, here and now – except for Tyrion because, after all, he had married Sansa Stark some years ago, isn’t it? Jaime could not remember if the union was annulled, but he had the feeling it was not.

“Yes, Ser. My father was looking for a political marriage after the war. He and Sansa Stark decided they were a good match at this level and gave their marriage another chance,” she concludes, her lips curving up with the nostalgic smile of telling a sweet tale for the hundredth time.

“ _Of course_ , my brother would find himself in a political marriage and with a child after the war,” he replies, half containing his smile. The idea that his brother, after everything he went through with their family, will find himself a good wife and create his own happy family is endearing. However, Jaime has himself a daughter to look after, now – or _will_ have at the least. Unusually shy all of a sudden, he glimpses to Joanna. She is still resting soundly. He looks back in Cat’s general direction, but turns his eyes toward the closest wall instead of meeting hers. “How…is she?” he says, almost hesitant and his voice soft.

Cat sits down again on the small chair beside Joanna’s bed. She observes Joanna’s resting silhouette, worry creases on her forehead, for some seconds. “Maester Tarly says she will recover easily with some rest. The knife didn’t hit the lungs or another important body part.” She pauses for so long Jaime gets worried and turns his eyes directly toward her, but she hasn’t moved. As if she felt he was staring at her, she meets his eyes. “I just – I don’t understand why the guards would attack her this way. The tales said you were united against the army of the dead.”

Jaime throws at her a dark and sarcastic laugh. “Us? United in the war? The persons spreading such tales must not have lived in the same realm than we do, or not during wars at the least.”

Cat arches an eyebrow at him. “I have seen war, Ser. I got a glimpse of the politics of ruling because of my family when I was old enough to understand parts of it. I saw the dead invading my home. I’m not some foolish child.”

No, Jaime thinks. She truly has seen nothing yet. He doubts she even had to fight against the dead. However, he says nothing of the sort. It amazes him how much she reminds him of Sansa Stark and her snobbish way of talking to people.

“Sansa Stark ends up Queen in the North where you’re from, isn’t it?” Despite his worries about his daughter and the upcoming war against the dead, Jaime smirks at the idea. He could actually see it happen. He has noticed how she was basically managing Winterfell on her own while Jon Snow was kneeling to his queen. “If you know politics as much as you imply, you must already be aware that Targaryens hate Lannisters because I killed the Dragon Queen’s father and that we helped the enemy to steal the throne from them. The Dragon Queen is annoyed that the North doesn’t kneel as fast as she wants them to, so she tries to reassert her authority.”

It doesn’t make him less angry that Daenarys would stab an 18-years old girl for her own interest to say all of this out loud, however, he thinks with a clenched jaw.

“I – I suppose that the war against the dead gave everyone a good reason to put aside the rivalry. I don’t remember the houses hating each other quite so much as you put it,” Cat hesitates as if she were still processing the information he told her.

“I suppose it could be true,” Jaime ends with a sigh. He doesn’t have the energy to keep that argument going. Plus, she may be right. After all, it seems like Starks being married to Lannisters and becoming one big family is a normal thing back where she comes from.

Silence falls again. Jaime turns his eyes to his daughter – the word still feeling foreign on both his tongue and in his mind. Her stomach rises and falls under the blanket at the rhythm of her breathing. This simple movement reassures him. Her eyes are closed and her lips slightly open as she sleeps, but her face looks peaceful despite her wounds. It would be a good thing if she sleeps so quietly through the war, he thinks.

“Jon Snow ordered Brienne and me to guard Bran Stark while he plays bait for the Night King,“ he begins. He has no idea how much he should spare the girl with the details. “Watch her back, would you? I would like to see her awake again if I survive the night.”

“I will, and you _will_ survive, Ser,” Cat replies, her lips curving up in a smile.

Jaime tilts his head. “I suppose I can trust your word since you are from the future.”

“You certainly should.”

Jaime nods and, after one last look at his daughter so he could perfectly remember her amid a desperate battle, he heads toward the door. Suddenly, he stops in his tracks and turns his eyes to Cat again. “You should tell Tyrion. About who you are. He would be happy to know. Keep an eye on him so he doesn’t get himself in too much trouble.”

“It would be very surprising if he doesn’t try to help with battle strategy on the battlefield,” she chuckles.

“This definitely sounds like something my brother would do,” Jaime remarks, smiling while he heads toward the door.

***

“Lady Brienne,” Sansa Stark starts, before immediately stopping herself, a proud smirk growing on her lips. She is sitting behind the long table of the hall as the Lady of the castle. “ _Ser_ Brienne, could you make sure everyone that is not participating in the battle finds refuge in the new safe place?”

Maester Wolkan and some Northern lords, including Lord Glover, leaves the room as Sansa Stark finishes talking. Brienne raises an eyebrow. “The new safe place, my Lady?”

“Yes, Brienne. We learned from Joanna, before she left, that we should not keep everyone down in the crypts, as it seems like the dead also raises there during the battle, from what she remembers hearing. We decided everyone should hide in the keep instead during the battle. Joanna and…” she pauses and the creases in her forehead deepen while she attempts to remember the name of the other girl from the future, it seems to Brienne.

“Cat, my Lady,” Brienne jumps in. “I believe her name is Cat.”

Recognition shines in her eyes and, for a second, Brienne is certain she will point out how odd it is that the girl wears her mother’s name. However, as usual, Lady Sansa is quite good at hiding her emotions, though Brienne sees the flash of surprise in her eyes for a second.

“Cat,” she replies instead. “Joanna and Cat should join us in the keep as well. Could you show them our new safe place, Brienne?”

Brienne nods, and Sansa lowers her eyes back at the sheet of parchment in front of her. A question pops up in Brienne’s head. A question she is not certain she dares to ask. She lowers her eyes to her hands, suddenly shy, hesitant. Then, to give herself some courage, she rests her hand on her sword, Oathkeeper. Jaime’s sword. _It’s yours. I’ll always be yours,_ he told her, some years ago.

“My Lady, have you heard some news about how the girl, Joanna, is doing? Will she fully recover from her wound?” Brienne finally asks.

Lady Sansa didn’t expect her question, it seems. Her eyes startle back to Brienne’s, her quill still in her hand. “Sam examined her and he said she would indeed fully recover from her wound,” Sansa starts. Once again, the surprise fades from her eyes after a second, and she resumes writing her letter. “I didn’t know you took an interest in Joanna. I’m sorry, Brienne. I would have told you earlier if I’d knew.”

“I – I have been told she was Ser Jaime’s, my Lady.”

“It makes sense. She has the Lannister look, though her words seem more trustworthy than those of a Lannister.” Her eyes become cold at the mention of Ser Jaime. Lady Stark has never been able to pardon the Lannisters for what they have done to her family. Sometimes, Brienne wonders if Lady Sansa decided to trust Ser Jaime during the trial because she herself trust him with her life or if Lady Stark simply used that opportunity to contradict the Queen.

A beat, a hesitation again. One look to Oathkeeper at her hips as she lowers her eyes.

“Ser Jaime seems to believe she is also mine, although I am certain it is simply impossible,” Brienne finishes. She avoids meeting Lady Sansa’s eyes and hopes that she won’t blush too obviously, which would greatly betray her feelings about having a child with Ser Jaime and humiliate her.

“Is it, though, impossible?” Sansa asks with arched eyebrows.

“I know what I look like, my Lady. The girl is beautiful. She is nothing like me.” _She has your eyes_ , Jaime had whispered, some days earlier. Brienne conjures up the girl’s face in her mind. A lightly freckled face with Jaime’s fine lines and a smile that reminds her of home, back on Tarth. What if…

No –

She is lying to herself. It is hope talking, and desire. It is the hope for a life after this war that seems doomed from the start. It is her desire to have what is expected of women in this world and her longing for a husband and children that would make her father proud.

She has known for years it would never happen to her. Why would a man such as Ser Jaime want to lay with her if it isn’t because he pities her?

Why is the thought that all of this is impossible feels disappointing?

“I see,” Lady Sansa says again, pronouncing every word with caution, weight. Is it her imagination talking or does Lady Sansa sound skeptical? “You should still spend some additional minutes with them before the battle, so you can make sure they are well settled.” 

Brienne meets Lady Sansa’s eyes and she is certain to perceive a slight smile on her face. “I will, my Lady,” Brienne replies.

When she arrives at the girls’ room, Joanna is still unconscious. Cat’s shoulders fall in relief and, for a second, Brienne is convinced the girl will jump on her legs and hug her. Brienne freezes for a second. She is always slightly uncomfortable with hugs, especially when she does not know the person well. However, her stiff body ends up relaxing just a bit. She rests a hand on her shoulder for comfort as Cat’s eyes shine with unshed tears.

Brienne doesn’t question her exaggerated reaction. She supposes both girls have been through much since they traveled back in the past. In fact, they barely exchange words as Brienne guides them to the keep, a Northern man carrying Joanna on an improvised stretcher.

A minute after they reach the keep, soldiers are called for the battle.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne attempt to protect Bran Stark against the Night King as his army attacks Winterfell. The fight takes an unexpected turn, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> I hope everyone is doing well given everything that is going on right now! Basically everything is closed here except essential services, like grocery stores...Please stay safe!! 
> 
> Also, I've discovered how much fanfiction is an excellent therapy for post-season 8 trauma, as you will see in this chapter about the battle of Winterfell! I hope you like it. It's the first time I write battle scenes :o
> 
> Some people suggested another Brienne pov in last chapter's review. Well, there will be one in the next chapter, featuring Brienne and some children from the future.......

The air is still as if they were frozen in time and snow is falling under the weirdwood tree, in the Godswood. Bran Stark sits in his wheelchair behind them, silent and so still that at times Jaime wonders if he is alive. Once, Jaime risks an eye back and notices Bran Stark is leaning his head back on his wheelchair, his eyes white and empty. Jaime moves to check on him, but Brienne puts one hand on his forearm, shaking her head. The Starks told her Bran would sometimes warg to help them win the battle and that they should not bother him when he does so.

Jaime stays skeptical, but he doesn’t bother protesting and shrugs instead. Whatever. He supposes the Starks know what’s best for their little brother. Otherwise, well, he wouldn’t be responsible if something other than the warging is happening right now.

The clink of steel against steel makes its way to the Godswood, the sound so far away it seems like they are in the middle of a dream. Jaime’s fingers clench the pommel of his sword. He is used at being in the heart of the battle, as a soldier or as a commander. Not knowing where the battle is heading – a victory or a failure – is making him nervous.

He sighs, the air turning into fog when it meets the cold air. He moves his legs, one, then the other, as much in an attempt to warm himself up than as in restlessness. 

“Stop moving,” Brienne scowls. “You are distracting me. I’m trying to focus.”

“On what?” Jaime laughs, despite the grave situation. “The trees are not going to grow legs and attack us in the next minute, Wench.”

She raises her eyes to the sky. She unties one of her fur cloaks and passes it to Jaime. “Shut up, and wear this over the rest of your clothes. I don’t need it.”

Jaime smirks but does as she says. _She will make such a wonderful mother_.

He thinks of his daughter, wounded and lying in her bed, deep in healing sleep. Is she hiding with the other women, children and those unable to fight? Will they be safe from the army of the dead? Will the dead find them? Jaime hopes she is safe.

He is unsure he would survive if he fails to protect another child of his.

Jaime observes Brienne, wondering if she is also thinking about Joanna now that dead is coming closer and closer.

***

Joanna startles awake to the sound of hushed voices and the cries of a baby. As soon as she does, her eyes rest on the ceiling. It’s made with rock, approximately cut and so unlike her chamber or the dark blue sky she saw when she was on her horse that she half panics trying to remember where she is.

Her breath is short and her heart beating fast and she attempts to sit to figure out what is going on and where she is, but sharp pain rushes through her body. A groan escapes from her mouth and a familiar hand rests on her shoulders to keep her down.

“Shh, you are alright, cousin. You are alright. It’s Cat.” Joanna goes still for a second, her eyes looking for her cousin’s and she finds her sitting beside her.

“Cat,” she breathes out in relief. Joanna briefly lets her eyes skim the crowded room, and she realizes she recognizes a few faces. The room itself looks more like an old keep than a diner hall or another large room. The room is divided into smaller cells, and people are sitting so close to each other in the tight space their knees and elbows are up against the person beside them. Joanna notices her uncle, Sansa Stark and other Northerners she vaguely recognizes from some days earlier.

Then, she remembers.

They are back at Winterfell. Through the fog in her brain, some memories flow back. Snow, so much snow, sitting on a moving horse, the gate of Winterfell through a snowstorm, guards arguing to get in…

“We are back at Winterfell, isn’t it?” she asks, though she already knows the answer.

Cat nods, her front head creasing in worry. They hear muffled screams from outside the room and she stiffens suddenly, her eyes glancing up to the ceiling. Joanna could not hear her breathing but her heart is beating hard against her chest. “The dead are here,” Cat finally whispers, afraid.

This explains why they are hiding in the keep, she remarks to herself. She exhales loudly, fear replacing the burst of pain in her body. “I’m so glad we are hiding here instead of in the Crypts like in the tales,” she thinks out loud.

Her uncle snorts somewhere beside her. “We should surrender to the dead whoever idiot thought hiding from the dead in the Crypts was such a genius idea, in your time.”

Tyrion Lannister takes a long sip from his flask, his hands slightly shaky, and moves it toward Joanna. “Want something to keep the pain away before the dead manages to kill us?”

Joanna reaches for the flask, and Cat glances to her father with arched eyebrows. “Not you. You’re too young,” he replies when he notices.

Cat sighs. “You don’t need to become all fatherly now that you know.”

“I need the practice. Besides, we may all be dead in a few hours, so I may as well take advantage of it now,” Tyrion shrugs.

“You are alive in the future, last time I was in the future that is. You are not going to die this night,” Cat explains. From her exasperated tone, it looks like it isn’t the first conversation they have on this topic.

“Who knows? You said yourself you were trying to change the future,” replies Tyrion.

Joanna takes a sip in her uncle’s flask. Though it isn’t the first time she takes alcohol, she still isn’t used to its taste. The wine tastes so strong (or maybe she took too much of a big sip) it is burning her throat, and she coughs.

All of a sudden, she thinks of her parents. She is certain that her father would have tried to keep her away from the battle against the dead if she hadn’t gotten wounded. At times, he was worse than her mother ever was.

It didn’t keep her from putting them on the front line, guarding Bran instead of Theon Greyjoy, so the plan would succeed. _Her own parents_. A weight falls in her heart at the thought. Is it a mistake? If they died because of her, she would never forgive herself. _She would probably disappear as if she never existed_ , she thinks.

They are among the best swordsmen in Westeros, she knows, and she hopes to inherit their formidable sense of honor and of doing what is right. She had heard tales about them fighting during the second war against the dead, swinging their flaming valyrian swords as one and plunging them in more wights than anyone else. They had been the only ones able to fight and kill White Walkers during this war, except for Jon Snow. She remembers feeling bright admiration for them, the heroes of both wars against the Night King.

No, the plan would only precipitate something they were meant to do in the future anyway. 

“If you are to worry this much, you should take another long sip of this.” Her uncle’s voice pulls her from her thoughts. She meets his familiar eyes – one of different colors, but he seems to know what she is thinking about without hearing her thoughts. “Don’t worry, sweetling. Everything is going to work according to the plan. They are some of the bravest and impossible to kill persons I know.”

Her lips curl in a half-smile, but she glances at Cat to figure out she had caught up on their mysterious conversation and secret plan. She hadn’t.

She hopes her uncle is right, though she has some doubts that he is trying to convince himself as much as her.

***

A sudden gust of wind sweeps up the snow in the Godswood, and when it finally falls, the Night King appears in front of them, surrounded by his White Walkers.

Jaime gulps. He throws one look at Brienne beside him and nods an agreement and a goodbye all at once. Who knows if they would survive like the time travelers claimed. The odds are against them, after all.

He raises his sword with his one hand, hoping it will be enough.

The Night King ignores them both. He moves forward, his eyes set on the prize – Bran Stark. He walks in silence. No words or sounds to threaten them. The snow doesn’t creak as he moves.

As if he were a shadow slipping over the ground.

Meanwhile, the White Walkers stay behind, ghosts standing at the limits of the clearing.

Jaime and Brienne stand, swords in hand, ready to protect the young Stark boy. Until the Night King abruptly stops, meters away from his target, still staring at Bran Stark. He raises his hand as if calling the boy to him by some dark spell.

Time goes still.

The boy and the Night King stare at each other, both unmoving.

Somewhere in the Godswood, a crow croaks.

Somewhere, well further on the battlefield, someone screams. A dragon roars.

Jaime’s breath quickens and becomes fog in the air.

The Night King lowers his hand and starts moving forward again, unafraid of their poor defense.

Then, chaos breaks out.

Jaime gets a glimpse of curly black hair jumping out from behind a tree – _What in the Gods is Snow doing here?_ – before a wave of White Walkers crashes on them. Soon, Bran Stark and the Night King both are surrounded by white, unhuman forms, and Jaime is unable to catch sight of them.

Jaime parries a blow coming from the first White Walker that tries to kill them. His sword barely holds up against his, but his lone hand doesn’t tremble. Doubts dawn on him anyway. How long would his strength keep him alive against a horde of White Walkers? Once, he was the best swordsman of the entire realm, but now, when he would need his strength the most, he was only a shadow of himself.

After a few more parries, Jaime finally takes advantage of a second of distraction from a flock of crows flying close to plunge his sword in the White Walker. It disintegrates into thin air immediately with some weird whirlwind he has never seen before. He doesn’t give it too much attention, however.

His eyes search for Brienne, his heart pulsing in his chest as if to celebrate his one victory. She is fighting a White Walker, still alive and breathing, at the other side of the clearing and, for a moment, he is relieved. Jon Snow briefly turns up at his side as well, black hair flying around his face as he fights another White Walker before disappearing again.

The Night King still stands at the same place than he was minutes ago, an unmoving shadow made of ice. The White Walkers fight at the other side of the clearing now.

This may be the only chance Jaime has.

He braces himself, raises his sword, ready for anything to happen. Ready to die so the realm and Brienne and his daughter could live.

Jon Snow runs in his sight. The stupid bastard is running in plain sight face to face with the Night King, he realizes suddenly. What does he think he is doing? Before Jaime reacts, Jon swings his sword at the Night King like a blind man. A mocking smile spreads on the Night King’s lips, and Jaime is certain he can hear him laugh at Snow’s attempt.

The Night King raises his hand, and his White Walkers, desperate to protect him, flock to him like bees. Jaime swears, but he doesn’t have time to ruminate the lost opportunity nor to try to make his way to the Night King or Bran.

Another White Walkers appears in front of him, surprising him. He still parries the first blow, but the White Walker is strong, and his strength is wading from exhaustion. Another quick blow and Jaime lose his sword, unable to follow. He realizes the White Walker is already bracing itself for a third blow, determined to finish him, so he raises his golden hand in defense, hoping it will be enough. It is no Valyrian steel sword, however. At the touch of the other sword, his hand freezes all over in a second, the cold so deep it bites Jaime’s skin at the wrist.

A cold so deep that the gold cracks all over, making his other hand even more useless than it was before.

Jaime expects to feel the same magic steel sword piercing through his chest right after, thinking that, in the end, his daughter was wrong about him being alive in the future but –

Instead, the creature dissolves into millions of particles, and the wind blows them away from him. Instead, Brienne appears in front of him, her breath short and sword raised, more real and alive than anything else he has seen for minutes. Jaime nods at her as a thank you, shoulders falling in relief, and she replies the same way. He retrieves Window’s wail on the ground in a matter of seconds.

Jaime tries to spot the Night King again, but he seems to have disappeared in the sea of confusion. _Fuck, fuck fuck._

His eyes search for Bran Stark instead, desperate to find proof he hasn’t failed yet another oath.

Another scream resonates against the trees of the Godswood.

A boy’s scream.

Jaime’s heart pounds through his chest. The sword of another White Walker grazes his shoulder, its steel as cold as ice, and Jaime brings his mind back to the battle quick enough to par another blow. As fast as he can, he plunges his sword in the White Walker’s chest, understanding it would be impossible to simply run from the fight.

His eyes look for Bran Stark again.

Jon Snow, who seems to have survived his little stunt surprisingly, dodges each blow from the White Walker with impressive agility.

Brienne kills a White Walker with her usual blunt force.

The Night King holds Bran Stark by the neck, raising his lifeless legs and small body to his head level.

_No._

Jaime calls for Brienne as loud as he can, so his voice goes over the battle sounds. She raises her head, and her deep blue eyes look for him, before finally meeting his. Jaime quickly nods in direction of Bran Stark and the Night King fighting.

She joins him. They run as one.

Bran Stark chokes, his mouth works to take a breath, to stay alive but he can’t – the grip of the Night King comes too strong. Bran waggles in the air in an attempt to defend himself but the blows don’t take any specific direction. Defenseless. Powerless.

Jaime is certain that the lips of the Night King curves in a slight, creepy smile as the taste of victory gets closer. He runs faster.

The face of Bran Stark becomes as blue as the eyes of the Night King.

Seconds later, he stops moving.

Jaime and Brienne stop behind the Night King, hearts pounding, and hair tousled by the wind and the cold. They exchange a single look and raise their swords as one. The Night King forgets about the boy, releases him and turns around to face them with a smirk.

Bran Stark’s body falls back on his wheelchair like a lifeless doll. Frost begins to spread on the body as if marked by the touch of the Night King.

Jaime lets out a breath and reaches for Brienne’s fingers with his now barely covered stump while his other hand holds his sword. She gently squeezes the gold metal, and for a second, he wishes he still had two hands to feel her warmth against his skin, one last time.

Red light spreads on the fallen snow. A strange warmth, close to the one coming from a fire, hits his hand holding the pommel of his sword. One look to Brienne and he understands. The steel of her sword had suddenly started glinting like magic fire, as red as flames. He supposes his sword is the same.

Twin swords, twin souls.

Against death itself.

As one, they run to the Night King, ready to fight for the survival of the realm, of humanity.

As one, they plunge their flaming swords in the heart of winter.

The Night King screams, a screeching echoing in the Godswood. Fire propagates on ice, red on blue, and after a minute, silence falls again. When the flames quiet down, all that is left of the Night King are ashes.

The White Walkers all fall as one.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Night King was defeated, Jaime confronts Jon Snow. Brienne gets another glimpse of what the future may hold for her as she helps the wounded around Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, guys! 
> 
> I rewrite the last part of the chapter and, somehow, it ended up being almost as long as the lenght of my initial entire chapter. Oups? Hope you like it. It was very fun to write :D
> 
> This has become the longest JB fic I have ever written *proud smile*

For the first time since Jaime arrived at Winterfell, Bran Stark truly looks like a little boy almost as small as the one he had pushed off a tower in another life. No blood taints the steel of Jaime’s sword, nor the snow around them and Bran Stark. The Night King and his soldiers have left nothing behind them.

For a moment, it seems to Jaime nothing has happened in the Godswood.

Jaime runs to Bran Stark in the snow. His eyes are closed, and the frost that was covering his body minutes ago had disappeared as if it were an illusion only Jaime had seen. Jaime kneels beside the boy, letting his sword falls in the snow beside him.

He moves his hand toward the boy’s chest and mouth. His heart is still beating against Jaime’s fingers, and his breath weakly blows against his skin. Jaime’s shoulders fall in relief.

Jaime turns his head toward his right hand and remembers that one of the White Walkers he fought earlier had destroyed it. The gold steel was cracked all over, and the thing was hanging on his stump, on the edge of falling over. Jaime sighs and removes what is left of his fake hand with difficulty, before leaving it to fall on the ground. The skin of his wrist is red; the fake hand must have rubbed his skin even more than usual during this intense fight. Jaime grimaces and rubs his wrist for a moment, bringing some relief to the skin.

Brienne towers over him, so he stands up again. Jon Snow joins them as well, running and falling to his knees beside the body of his half-brother. Brienne’s eyes are going from him to the boy, a worried frown on her forehead. “Smooth the frown off your forehead, Wench. The boy is alive and breathing still.”

Brienne nods quietly, her eyes shooting a warning to him. Her sword to her side had become normal steel as well, the flames go out now that the battle had died down again. She is so exhausted she could barely lift Oathkeeper off the ground, it seems. She moves a step forward, her feet slow and heavy, and she rests her hand on Jon Snow’s shoulder to comfort him. Jon verifies Bran Stark’s heartbeat, not believing Jaime’s words at first. Jaime could not blame him.

“I am sorry, Jon. We could not adequately protect your brother from the Night King. We – We were not fast enough…” Brienne adds to Jon with a calm and a sincerity he admires. Only regrets from what she considers to be a failure curbs the ton of her voice. Stinking and undeserved regrets.

Jon nods in silence, avoiding Brienne’s and Jaime’s eyes, but an odd glint lurks in his eyes, along with the sadness – something that looks like guilt and fear. Jaime shakes it off, putting it on the exhaustion the young man must be feeling.

His eyes find Brienne’s and, for the first time since the end of the battle, he realizes –

They are alive and seem to have only minor wounds.

Did they win the war, however?

Did all the wights fell on the ground, dead, as the White Walkers did some seconds ago?

No sound could be heard from the castle, now. No dragon roaring or war cry or steel swords hitting against one another.

Only silence.

It is the terrifying silence of not knowing who died and who survived, nor what the state their world would be in after the war. It is the exhausted silence that followed true chaos, right before the soldiers realize they are in fact still alive and breathing, before life comes bursting again to replace the numbness.

Jaime wishes nothing more than to fall into his bed and sleep for the rest of the night and the following day.

Brienne puts Oathkeeper away in her sheat but doesn’t turn her eyes from his.

“You’re wounded,” she whispers once it’s done as if she lacked the energy to speak louder. She moves a few steps closer to him and reaches his right shoulder with her hand. “You should go see a Maester.”

The warmth of her hand spreads through him, chasing out the exhaustion and the numbness for a second. Instinctively, Jaime reaches for the wound with his left hand to feel how deep it is and his hand falls on Brienne’s.

She turns her eyes away from him and detangles her hand from his so fast it seems like his hand was aflame like his sword was earlier. She is blushing a bit, but Jaime could not be sure if it were because of him or the cold. She stares at the point over his shoulder now, sad and as tired as he felt. “I have to report back to Lady Sansa.” She pauses, shame forming a shadow on her face. “I have to tell her that her brother is alive but seriously wounded because we could not get to him fast enough.”

She turns around, her head low and no doubt already trying to find the right words to explain to Lady Sansa what had happened. Jaime sighs and reaches out to grip her shoulder before she moves too fast. “Brienne,” he starts, using her name this time to cause a reaction out of her. “We – _You_ did everything you could to protect Bran Stark, and you somehow succeeded at protecting an old cripple such as _myself_ as well. You are a truer knight than anyone else that fought tonight, Ser Brienne of Tarth.”

Gratitude shines in her eyes, replacing some of the shadows he saw seconds ago. She nods. This time, when she turns around, Jaime doesn’t try to stop her.

***

Jaime glances back at Jon Snow. The man is still kneeling in the snow, unaware of his surroundings. Good. Jaime needs to have honest answers now that Brienne has left.

When Jon Snow had first entered the Godswood to fight, Jaime assumed the bastard wanted to protect his little brother. After seeing him in action, however, he is not so sure anymore. Wanting to protect his own brother, then failing to kill the Night King on purpose seems contradictory to Jaime.

He could smell that something is up with Snow, and his small council is probably involved as well. Have they been lying to Brienne and him about their battle plans and their true goals since the beginning? Jaime joins Jon Snow close to the heart tree, determined to clear things up.

“So, tell me, Snow, have you finally recovered from the frost on your brain? Maybe Tarly could help you with it. He would probably even suggest thinking in your stead.”

Snow raises his blank face toward him, unimpressed by his jest. The bastard can barely look at him and rests his eyes somewhere over Jaime’s shoulder instead.

“It is kind of you to worry about my brain, Ser,” replies Snow, careful at avoiding answering his question. The boy could not lie convincingly, and it shows.

“Sure, _kind_ is most certainly the word _everyone_ uses to depict me, but at least I didn’t run to fight the Night King, and miss my blow on purpose.” He is already seeing the lie in the boy’s eyes, so why is he still so vehement on contradicting him?

“I didn’t, too.”

“Right,” Jaime snorts. “Of course, you didn’t. They say you were one of the best swordsmen in the Night’s Watch. You have a Valeryan sword. Still, you would miss such an easy blow, so close to the Night King, by so much?”

Jon Snow shrugs. “It was my duty to try to defeat the Night King, but mistakes come in the way sometimes, Ser.”

“I recognize a calculated move when I see one, Snow,” adds Jaime. “I have been surrounded by court most of my life.”

Jon Snow ignores his words and draws his attention back to his brother. The boy is still laying on the snow, unconscious. Jon sighs and quickly examines the body of his brother to assess his wounds but it seems to Jaime the boy is clumsily attempting to cut the conversation short. None of the words Jon Snow said succeeded at convincing Jaime, however. He will need more than a half-assed explanation to believe this is an honest mistake.

Jon Snow moves the arms of his brother to the boy’s chest in a slow gesture. He then proceeds to circle the boy’s chest with one arm, and secure the boy’s legs with the other one, before lifting him. It’s only when the boy is safe against his chest that he draws his attention to Jaime again with a brooding sigh.

“Ser, I sure appreciate your concern,” Jon starts, before abruptly pausing, as if he were choosing his words carefully, “but we have a plan to defeat the Night King once for all…while changing the future of humanity. It was set in motion tonight. This is everything I can tell you for now.”

“ _Changing the future of humanity_? What in the gods does it mean?” Jaime asks, ignoring the boy’s last sentence, still struggling to see any reasonable thinking behind the words. Yes, Jaime remembers that his daughter, at his trial, had talked about how dark the future she knows is. How did Jon Snow’s miserable attempt at killing the Night King, then Brienne and him succeeding, help them change the future? How do you change a future that already happened before it happens? This time travel bullshit is starting to give him a headache.

Jon Snow sighs, exasperated by his insistence, then looks away toward Winterfell with longing as if he couldn’t wait to go back home. Jaime couldn’t care less – he needs to know more. Quickly enough, the boy draws his eyes to Jaime again. Jaime’s eyes, however, have never left Jon’s face. “The Lannister girl from the future, Joanna, gave us valuable information about the future. This is why she came here – to change it, and we will do _everything_ we need to do. No one else can know _how_.”

The boy no doubt works hard to keep a neutral face despite his determination, but it isn’t enough. For a second, shadows lurk in the back of his eyes, and Jaime gets a glimpse of just how far the boy is willing to go for to win the war and the future before it fades away.

A sound interrupts them, a muffled groaning coming from Jon’s arms. Both men lower their eyes to see Bran Stark’s eyes wide open, staring at them alternatively and in silence. The boy’s look pierces their soul as if he knew what they were talking about. For how long has he been listening to them? Jaime swallows the question burning his tongue (“ _We?_ ”) and proceeds to avoid the boy’s eyes. Jon Snow takes advantage of the moment to nod at Jaime one last time before he turns around and walks out of the Godswood.

Jaime suddenly remembers how, before the battle, he had caught his daughter and Tyrion talking to each other in low voices, then interrupting their discussion the moment they saw him – no doubt talking about the ways to change the future. Jaime realizes it now.

Both his brother and his daughter are part of Jon Snow’s plan to change a future Jaime knows nothing about. They had left him and Brienne protecting Bran, thinking they were fighting to preserve the future of humanity when in truth they were mostly kept in the dark of the supposed grand plan of Snow.

He is tired of being used as a puppet to accomplish some secret goals or schemes. He had left Cersei so he would be able to make his own decisions instead of being a pawn in her games. Yet, what he had tried to avoid was happening all over again.

Jaime is _so_ tired of lies.

\--

Even though the battle has been over for hours, smoke still cloaks the air and landscape of Winterfell. Blood spilling from the wounded and dead has stained the already dirty snow. Air stinks of burnt leather or flesh and is filled with the moaning of the wounded. Still, Brienne stands in the yard of the castle, stepping over stones and other bits and pieces that had fallen from the towers or the walls during the battle.

She holds her breath wherever she could to avoid breathing the thick smoke that sticks to her lungs and makes her cough and, sometimes, she couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the strong smell. However, Brienne counts herself lucky there were the only worries she has. The battle could have been worse for her. She finds it her duty to help the survivors gathering the wounded inside the castle so they could be healed and burying the bodies of those that were not as lucky.

So, she did, ignoring her benign wounds –

But not before she made sure Lady Sansa and Arya were still alive and safe.

_Brienne found Lady Sansa almost as soon as she put a foot in the castle of Winterfell after she left Jaime, Bran and Jon Snow in the Godswood. Lady Sansa hadn’t wait long in hiding after she got word the battle was over. A soldier told Brienne that despite their best efforts, Lady Sansa had insisted she get out of their hiding place to help them assess the damage done to the castle and the body count of their army._

_A minute later, the Lady was giving orders to her men again in the Hall of Winterfell. So, Lady Sansa was no doubt as healthy as she could be after such a battle. A proud smile curves up Brienne’s lips as she makes her way to Lady Sansa._

_Lady Sansa had replied to her smile with relief the second she noticed Brienne was there. “Ser Brienne,” she started, “I am so glad to see you survived the battle.”_

_“Probably not as glad as I am to see you alive, my Lady,” replied Brienne with a friendly nod toward Lady Sansa. A beat, then Sansa continued. “Have you had time to get a glimpse at the damage done to the castle and at how many wounded or dead men we have, Ser?”_

_“No, my Lady. I wished to ensure you and Lady Arya were safe before I head outside again to help,” Brienne explained._

_“Good. We are safe. You can go help without concerns,” Lady Sansa replied, satisfied by her answer. Lady’s Sansa eyes flicked to the bruise on Brienne’s cheek and to her right shoulder, where her armor was tainted with blood. “It seems like you are wounded, Ser. You should see a Maester before heading out.”_

_“I would rather leave the healing power of the Maester to those who really need it, my Lady. I assure you these wounds are not serious,” Brienne argued._

_“Good, Ser. We will need every arm we can get to fix the damages of the battle.” Lady Sansa’s face suddenly grew serious. “If you assure me you are well, you can go back to helping the survivors.”_

_Brienne nods, ready to head back into action, but before doing so, there was another person she absolutely needed to inquire about. She had been delaying it, afraid of the news she would hear…and of what her concern about the girl truly meant. “My Lady, I was also wondering if you have seen the girl, Joanna? She was also hiding in the old keep during the battle.”_

_“Jaime Lannister’s daughter, you told me, isn’t it?” asked Lady Sansa with a smirk that made Brienne blush slightly. “Yes, Ser, I have seen her. She is doing quite right as well. She is still resting and recovering from her wounds, but when we were hiding, she insisted on getting a knife in case the dead reach us. She was brave, Ser.”_

_Something in the way Lady Sansa pronounced these words made Brienne think the girls had developed quite the respect and admiration toward each other. Warmth spread in her heart and Brienne had to remind herself she should not feel so attached to the girl. It would be a bad idea to feed herself such false hope. It would only set her up for disappointment. She welcomed Lady Sansa’s words with another smile, a more timid one this time, and left._

Now outside the yard but close to the walls of Winterfell, Brienne stops beside another wounded man – a northerner – laying in the dirty snow. Though the snow stopped falling, a white fog covers the surroundings of the castle. Brienne squints to see better and kneels beside the man. A rock from the walls of the castle fell on his right leg. Brienne comforts the still conscious man with a few words, then proceeds to quickly assess his wounds.

She knows Sam Tarly has more knowledge than she does in that aspect and that he will be able to do this work more precisely than her. However, she also needs to be able to safely move this man.

The man mumbles a few words that she doesn’t understand. Brienne smiles and pretends she understands them, just to be kind. The man participated in their victory against the Night King. He deserves all the respect she can give him.

Once Brienne evaluates that she can move the man without making his injury worse, she helps him stand up with care and passes an arm around his chest to support him while he is walking. She walks with him up to the doors of the castle and arrives at the moment Jon Snow gets out.

His face is black from smoke and ashes, and red from blood. He gives Brienne an exhausted smile, and the curve of his lips seems to accentuate the dark bags under his eyes. Jon Snow replaces her to guide the man inside and to the Maester. Brienne leaves to find other survivors and soon kneels beside another man, unconscious this time.

Before she can examine him, however –

“Mother!” calls a child.

That is odd, Brienne thinks. She thought all the children were inside the castle, recovering from the hours they spent hiding in the dark.

“Mother!” it calls again.

Brienne raises her head with a frown, in time to feel a body crashes into hers and surrounding her with his arms, emptying her lungs of all air.

A child.

What is a child doing here?

Over the child’s shoulders, in between the long strands of pale blond hair, she sees Lord Davos waiting some steps away, looking at once surprised and pleased. The child seems to sense her lack of reaction, because he takes a few steps back and rests his familiar green eyes on her, wearing a frown perfectly mirroring hers.

“You are not our mother,” he says, disappointed and confused at once.

“No, I am not,” Brienne replies, a statement, and a question, because she can’t think of anything else to say. She cringes at herself for being so awkward still with children. “I think so,” she adds after a moment of hesitation. She tries to curve up her lips in a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

“You look just like our mother,” the child insists, and Brienne has no idea what she should reply to such a statement. She raises her eyes to Lord Davos, still standing a few steps away from them.

Lord Davos shrugs and nods to his right. For the first time since they arrived, Brienne notices a second small boy there, blond with soft green eyes just like the other. Lord Davos must have seen the question on her face because he starts explaining further.

“I found these two boys in the forest surrounding the castle, hiding in a small cave with knives in their hands,” he says with a compassionate, almost fatherly look toward the boys. “It looks like they were hiding there during the battle, waiting for it to end. They didn’t talk much – I only got out of them that they came at Winterfell to find their family and their big sister Joanna. I think they are not from _here_ , Ser,” ends Lord Davos, sending a knowing look her way.

A startled gasp escapes Brienne’s lips as Lord Davos’s words sink in.

_The boys are not from here. They are Joanna’s brothers._

_They are from the future._

_They are Jaime’s sons._

_And hers?_

No, she repeats to herself for the hundredth time, hammering the thought in her head as if it would help her believing it once for all. This is simply impossible, as much as the foolish part of herself wants it to be true. Jaime only came North because he was an honorable man willing to fight for humanity.

Now that the war is over, Jaime would no doubt return to his pregnant sister as soon as possible. He probably told Brienne that Joanna was her daughter to avoid getting the word out that he had made another child with his sister and because he was ashamed. No, Jaime prefers women like his sister, blond, feminine, and delicate. Someone Brienne could never be.

“What are your names?” asks Lord Davos to the boys that seem to be about 10 years of age, after one last look and a worried frown at Brienne.

Oh –

She has been standing in silence, stunned, for this long? She is lucky Lord Davos is here with her to keep the conversation going. The man seems to be quite liked by children around Winterfell.

The boy that is the closest to Brienne looks at them both with a smile as bright as the stars as he proudly announces his and his brother’s names. “I am Arthur,” he starts, “Like Ser Arthur of the Kingsguard!” Then, he points to his brother, still standing and half hiding behind Lord Davos. “He is Galladon, like in the story of the Perfect Knight of Tarth!” he finishes with a theatrical movement of his hand and sparkles in his eyes.

His brother rests his eyes in Brienne’s with a shy but curious smile, a bit more distrustful toward strangers than his brother. After everything they must have been through, Brienne could not blame him.

Lord Davos laughs at the adorable excitement of the child and musses the hair of the shy brother. “Such impressive names you got here, little men!”

Brienne, however, could not show as much nonchalance and joy, deep in thoughts she is unable to push away.

Galladon, like the brother she has lost at a young age.

Arthur, like the knight Jaime had admired when he was a young squire and knight.

What does this coincidence mean?

At the same moment, Galladon sneaks out from behind Lord Davos, probably wanting to join the fun the man is having with his brother. With his green eyes and long pale blond strands, he is identical to his brother. _Twins,_ thinks Brienne.

The boy makes a few timid steps toward Brienne and his brother. Then, he stops, looks at her, his twin brother and Lord Davos. Brienne tries to force a smile on her lips to encourage him, despite her shock. The boy replies with a smile of his own before going closer to her.

Then, however, he brings his right hand to his neck, inside his shirt. He pulls a necklace over his head to remove it and lets it fall in his right hand. Brienne is surprised when the boy then presents his hand and the necklace to her. She frowns but takes the jewel anyway from his small pale palm.

It indeed is a necklace, but not any.

It is the Tarth family necklace with the copper moon and star pendant. The one her father’s father gave to him when he became the Evenstar. The one she had hoped to get, one day when she was still young and believing in stories and happy endings.

She recognizes every line in the copper from when her father let her play pretend with it as a child.

Now, this child, possibly Jaime’s son (her son? She cares to think), is wearing it as if he inherited a treasure. She had seen with how much care the boy had removed the necklace as if it were his most valuable possession.

“Where did you get this?” she finally gets out, her voice quavering, unable to even pull her eyes away from her family necklace.

The boy lowers her eyes to the jewel as if he hated being separated from it. He doesn’t talk for a few seconds, hesitant, choosing his words. “My mother gave it to me b – before we – we left for the past,” he stammers, sniffing and swallowing his tears. “She said I – I should show it to – to people in Winterfell so they believe we are from – from the future. She – she said to look for someone that looked just like her.”

“Oh,” his brother, Arthur, replies. He freezes, his eyes round and big. “I forgot to say we are from the future and to give you the necklace,” he smiles shyly.

Brienne holds her breath to contain a sob buried deep in her throat. She thinks of the sapphire sea of Tarth. She thinks of her father, of the possibility she could be a mother in the future.

Lord Davos seems to sense her shock. He gives her a look, then moves a few steps forward to put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “It’s alright, little man. We already met Lady Joanna. She told us everything.”

“She is _here_? Can we see her?” Arthur exclaims. When he turns to Brienne, his face grows slightly serious, though still excited. He must have noticed her kneeling still in the snow, the jewel resting in her trembling hand. Brienne does not want to picture what she looks like at that moment – probably horrible and confused enough for a child to pick up on it.

The boy reaches for her other hand with his, closing his fingers on it as much as the small hand of a child could with men’s hands like hers. “I _knew_ you looked just like our mother. Don’t worry, our Father always says we are very, very nice and kind.”

Brienne dives into the boy’s familiar green eyes, truly examining his whole face for the first time, seeing him in a new light. He has Tarth written all over his features; the shape of his face, his big mouth, and lips, his pale straw-like blond hair and skin, his height, the width of his shoulders, his freckles.

Only his nose and green eyes remind her of Jaime’s. She sees her father in them and some that she remembers from Galladon, her brother. She sees home.

No, a small voice in her head still insists despite the proof, that is impossible.

Yet, she keeps trying to come up with other possibilities but fails.

The twins could only be hers.

Her throat tightens with emotions. Could she become a decent mother despite being so unwomanly and not even remembering what her mother looked like?

She wonders how it felt to say goodbye to her own children before sending them away to protect them, knowing it may be the last time she sees them and everything they will have to get through once they arrived in the past. How do you live while not knowing if they are still alive? Her heart breaks in million pieces for these two little boys her future self had to abandon.

“Ser, are you alright?” Ser Davos’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts.

If the frown he wears is any indication, he has repeated his question a few times already without getting an answer. Even the twins are looking at her with worried eyes. Brienne nods, turning toward the twins.

A hand of steel squeezes her heart and dizziness overwhelms her at the thought of getting, in a close future, something she never believed she would ever have. A dream that was at the reach of every noblewoman in Westeros but her, it had seemed for a long time.

“They wish to see Lady Joanna, Ser,” Lord Davos continues softly, not reassured by her nod.

Brienne blinks. Of course, they want to see their sister. _Her daughter,_ she thinks. _Jaime had said the truth of it._ It is her duty to bring them back together, she knows. “I understand,” she begins, overwhelmed, but still getting back on her feet. “I – I should – “

Lord Davos moves his hand to stop her. “You don’t have to, Ser. I will bring them to the Lady’s room and you can join us later.”

“No, no, I truly should – it is my duty to – “

“No, _my Lady_. The future has not happened yet. You should take the time to think about this news.”

Before Brienne can say another word, the twins pass her fast, giving her gleaming smiles, almost running toward the castle. Lord Davos follows behind them.

The boys stop in their tracks at the door of the castle and turn around to glance at her again as if silently pleading her to follow. She does.


End file.
